


Tempus Fugit (S7)

by leavethesky



Category: BtVS - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 85,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavethesky/pseuds/leavethesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world again. Willow and Buffy are trapped in the past leaving Faith and Dawn to bring them back, save the world, or end it. This was first published on The Kitten, The Witch And The Bad Wardrobe in 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Willow looked up from her laptop and scanned the room with unfocused eyes. For the past hour she had worked on the same email, but still sat staring at two short words and a blinking cursor on a field of white.

_Dear Giles_

Slowly her eyes focused on her surroundings and she felt a deep frown crease her forehead. It was a familiar room, the guest room in the Summer’s house, but it had been altered. All of the furniture, everything that had been theirs – hers and Tara’s – was gone. Erased. Removed to the basement where no one could stumble on it accidentally and injure themselves. She knew why they had done it. For her. And probably for themselves as well, but now that the familiar four-poster bed, paintings and rugs had been replaced by cheap catalog furniture the room just felt sterile as if someone had scoured it with antiseptic to remove a deadly infection.

Her fingers moved in a blur over the keyboard finally coming to rest on the cool laminate surface of the desk.

_Dear Giles._

_Xander is too friendly, too accommodating and full of self-help book inspired advice. Buffy can’t look at me. Dawn doesn’t even see me and when she does her eyes are full of blame and anger. And everything in this terrible town reminds me of her._

_How was your day?_

The cursor slowly backed over the words on the screen as the redhead released a long sigh. It wasn’t fair to unload on Giles. He had done so much for her over the past months, had been the only one to truly accept and forgive her. To ask her to forgive him. Because, as he explained it she had needed a Watcher, a mentor desperately, but he had been so focused on his Slayer that he let her growing power go un-schooled. Willow’s case had been an eye-opener for the Council. They had even begun a new Watcher program with the redhead as test case. Witchy Watchers was the term she used in private with Giles to make him smile. The old Willow could make everyone smile and she had begun to practice on him hoping to find pieces of that old Willow again.

Old Willow. She cycled through the words that would describe her old self: Hacker. Best Friend. Nerd. Sidekick. Junior Scientist.

_So much for me being the scientist, she thought ruefully. Now it’s Willow Rosenburg, guinea pig._

Another long sigh and her eyes fell on the hard, ugly lines of a cheap Ikea knockoff bookshelf. Tara would never have allowed such a monstrosity near the Summers house. She permitted herself a small smile at the memory of the gentle look of disapproval Tara would only occasionally allow herself to express.

_But she isn’t here._

It terrified her sometimes. All of the great novels about love lost and grief spoke of the haunting afterward. Seeing their ghost everywhere. But she was back in Sunnydale, back in the same room where she and Tara had shared so much -- love, lust and pain, everything – but there was nothing now. The connection was gone. Wasn’t their love supposed to last forever even after death?

But it hadn’t. It had died in this room with a bullet and a god and that was the terrible thing, the thing that couldn’t be discussed or shared with anyone because it meant she had failed. The dark magic she had unleashed had somehow managed to sever her tie to the only thing that had ever really mattered in her life. The only light.

_How many times can I fail you?_

For the thousandth time since her arrival she considered rushing down to the basement and dragging up every piece of furniture until the room was bursting with it. At least then she would have something of Tara around her. Objects that had been touched by Tara’s hands, pieces of the past that possibly even smelled like her still. But she knew this exorcism was not just for her, it was for Dawn too. The teenager still couldn’t discuss the blonde without crying. Twice Willow had stumbled on the girl speaking quietly to a framed photo of Tara that hung in the hall.

Dawn had always confided in Tara and now there was no one. And the black hole that Tara’s death had torn into the fabric of their lives continued to pull at them all with its terrible gravity. Weighing them down. They were all trying to escape its pull, to regain what they had lost with jokes and everyday acts, but there was no way to reverse the process that brought them here. No way to turn that black hole back into the bright star it had once been. Entropy. First law of the universe. Every system tends toward disorder. Chaos. But this system had found a terrible order that was artificial and suffocating. Unnatural.

Willow looked once again at her laptop. Maybe it wasn’t a black hole for her anymore. It hadn’t really been since that day on the hillside when she had tried to take away everyone’s pain for good. Since then the place in her heart where Tara had been felt more like a blank. A white space. Like the agonizing white of the blank email.

_Dear Giles_

_White is the color of mourning in the East._

Realizing that the email was not going to get done, she shut the laptop with one shaky hand and looked at the clean lines of the box springs and mattress they called a bed. She was so tired. Exhausted. But she knew what that bed meant -- dreams and nightmares. She could handle the nightmares, the endless visions of blood and power that always began with that one line, “Willow… your shirt.” She was a Scooby after all, used to waking up shaking with fear.

It was the dream that tore at her soul and left her sobbing in desperation. The same dream. It always began in impressionistic gasps, the fractured sensations of waking. Waking in Tara’s arms. It started with the warmth of her body against Willow’s, the perfect Tara-shaped landscape of flesh fitted against her own, an arm thrown across her chest. The weight of Tara’s arm was warmth and home. The temperature of love. And then it became a world of Tara smell. The blonde witch’s personal chemistry mingled with jasmine and sandalwood and something else. Something uniquely Tara that spoke directly to the deepest place in Willow’s mind. The primitive brain that searched for the simple things – food, sex, shelter, comfort. The things that mattered.

And then sound. The gentle flutter of her love’s breath through red hair, breezing over sensitive ears. A sleepy sigh falling on her own lips like a kiss. Because she was that close in the dream. Her breath mingling with Tara’s, the air of the room passing through one body and into the other. It was always at this point that her dreaming self began to run through the possibilities: stay still, open her eyes and watch Tara sleep? Or wake her with slow easy kisses, fingers and open mouths. Her hands would begin to roam, moving lightly over soft skin eliciting another breathy sigh. Feeling the flush and braille of her lover’s arousal as her fingers made their slow and steady progress. This was the story of their love written in skin and breath, sighs and wet and Willow wanted to read it all, but there would be no open eyes. That was the dream and the dark and the end. No vision, no sight. She would never see her love again. Not even in sleep.

Willow took a deep breath to cleanse her mind before laying her head down wearily on the cool plastic surface of her desk to rest. Not to sleep.

 

#

 

Buffy tilted her head back to look up at the stars, rubbing the well-worn wood of her favorite stake between her palms. It was a slow night. Her Slayer senses picked up no supernatural activity, just the endless burrowing of earthworms beneath her, the gentle movement of the breeze around her.

But this was the place. She knew it from the vivid dreams that had haunted her nights since Willow’s return.

The thought of the redhead made her grimace, her forehead becoming deeply lined. She hadn’t had these morbid thoughts since Willow’s departure to England. but since her return the Slayer had found her thoughts drifting back to that dark empty place she had fallen into after her resurrection. Because they had brought her back to make things the same, but nothing had been. Nothing. Especially not her friendship. The powerful magic her best friend summoned to bring her back had damaged their relationship irrevocably, had increased the distance between them to a space so much larger than the line between life and death. And there was no magic that could span that gap.

She felt her jaw clenching in anger at all she had lost. Angel. Riley. Tara. Her mother. Even Faith. But the loss she couldn’t seem to get over was Willow because she had been there for the Slayer through everything. And then she wasn’t. And worse, the redhead was there in the house haunting her. A ghost she couldn’t touch or see clearly. A reminder of everything she had lost and could never retrieve. Because that wasn’t her Willow. The demon with the dark hair and eyes had swept her Willow away and no matter how much therapy she had received in England, Buffy could see her still in the familiar green eyes. And a small part of her blamed Tara, but the larger part blamed herself. She was the Slayer. It was her job to protect her family from evil.

The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand at the memory of that other Willow. The demon of grief and anger. The only enemy Buffy had faced and failed to defeat.

_All the therapy in the world isn’t going to make Willow right_, she thought bitterly. That was the worst part, that she would never really be able to understand what had happened. Why Willow had gone all black magic. But then she hadn’t really felt close to Willow in a long time. Long before the resurrection. And some of it was Tara and that made her feel guilty. Because it had been different than Oz. Even when Willow was deeply involved with the guitarist she had always made time for Buffy, but as soon as Tara entered the picture Buffy had felt like an outsider.

_Not like you tried really hard_, she chastised herself. She knew she hadn’t made time for her best friend, but there were good reasons. Riley reasons and then resurrection reasons and finally… Tara. It was hard to admit, but she had begun to prize her friendship with the blonde. She found herself sneaking around to meet Tara for coffee in secret and not to talk about Willow or to help Willow. To help herself. Because Willow looked for solutions when you talked to her about problems. And sometimes she wasn’t looking for a solution. But she found that she could tell Tara her secrets and problems and Tara would just let them be. She would take in Buffy’s nightmares with that deep blue gaze and give comfort not answers. She felt the tears well up in her eyes at the thought of the sweet blonde.

_Tara, I'm so sorry._

A hard blow to the back of her head sent the Slayer to her knees. As she tried to regain her balance, the sounds of a loud scuffle became audible behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

“Dawn!”

 Willow’s head shot up from desk at the sound of Buffy’s voice echoing through the house. She looked wildly around the room trying to find the reason for obvious alarm in the Slayer’s voice, but the room was black. It took her a few moments to realize where she was, the strange objects of the familiar room disorienting her already sleep-fuzzed brain.

“Buffy?” she finally managed to croak out weakly and then headed toward the door.

“Dawn!” the Slayer’s angry voice now boomed through the house. Even her voice was a weapon, smashing through the house, against walls and eardrums.

Willow tripped over the laptop cord and quickly regained her balance before moving out into the darkened hall. The Slayer’s voice was becoming more and more panicked as she searched the house for her sister.

“Buffy are you okay?” She mumbled as she picked her way down the hall trying to locate the light switch in the dark. The sound of Buffy’s feet on the stairs drew her attention to the other end of the hall where the moonlight was streaming in as if to light her way.

She finally reached the top of the stairs relieved to find Buffy staring up at her with no visible wounds, at least nothing she could see in the dim light streaming through the window. There was a moment just before the Slayer looked up at her friend that Willow thought everything had finally returned to the way it had been. Before. There was a problem, a danger and they were moving together to find each other and make it right.

Which meant that all of her careful attempts to remain cheery, her bright-colored clothing and talk about computers. Everything she had done to make them see that she was the old Willow who could be depended on and trusted was finally paying off. She knew it would be a slow process, but maybe this could be the beginning…

“Wil?” It sounded so normal, that small vulnerable word in the darkness, but it had been months since Buffy had uttered the familiar nickname. Or was it years?

And then their eyes met and the Slayer staggered back as if she had been struck.

“Where is she?” Her tone was accusing. Angry.

“I…I don’t know. I just….” Willow stammered in shock trying desperately to understand the sudden shift in mood. Her still sluggish brain struggled with the scene before her. Did something happen on patrol? Something that looked like it might be her fault? Did she do something in her sleep? Maybe had a nightmare and cast a spell by accident? She studied her friend’s features for a clue, but there was nothing. Her clothing was not torn, there were no bruises or blood, just Buffy looking stylish and slightly mussed after a Patrol as always. Even in the darkened hallway, her friend’s slick sense of style and personal grooming was obvious. Even in the dark…. It took only a nanosecond for the answer to work its way through the redhead’s powerful psyche – the darkened stairway, the eerie light from the moon that made the Slayer’s golden hair look dark and her bright eyes look shadowed and almost black.

Evil Willow. Magic-abusing Willow.

She stared down at her best friend, her hero since she was fifteen, and knew with a sickening wave of nausea that Buffy was staring up at her enemy – Dark Magic Willow.

_I failed you again Tara…_

“No! No Buffy it’s not…I’m not…” she scrambled for the light switch finally finding it to illuminate the hallway in the harsh light of a seventy watt bulb. “I was writing an email to Giles and I just put my head down for a second.” Buffy stood staring up at her, blinking her eyes against the hard light. “I mean, I must have fallen asleep and what time is it?”

Several moments passed as the Slayer stared up at her in silence. Finally her mouth opened a bit and her features softened slightly in relief and Willow let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Eleven o’clock and Dawn’s not here.” All hope the redhead had died with the taut sound of her friend’s voice. _Former friend_ she reminded herself. _And hopefully future friend. Again. Maybe._

“Did you check the fridge? Maybe she left a note?” she offered in a small voice. A deep crease formed between the Slayer’s eyebrows in response. “You know, cause that’s the rule in the Summers house –“ Willow stammered hastily.

“No I didn’t check the fridge because there is no note because Dawn knows she’s supposed to stay here tonight,” Willow watched her friend’s back as the blonde Slayer retreated angrily down the stairs toward the kitchen. “Because I told her to in my most Mom-like voice!” The redhead summoned every bit of strength she possessed to follow her down the stairs_. At least she’s talking. Buffy talking is good. Talking to me is even better._ This was the most Buffy had spoken to her since her return. She followed her carefully, trying to remain silent so her friend would have more room to speak. “…she knows how dangerous everything is right now and she knew she shouldn’t…”

There was a pause as Buffy ripped down a note that was taped to the refrigerator.

“Damnit!” The note was slammed against the kitchen counter. “What part of no does she not understand?”

“Well, probably the part spelled N-O. You know, it has a whole other definition when you’re sixteen. I mean, I know that was like forty years ago, but I still remember you not doing well with the whole n-o thing either. Maybe it’s a Summer’s girl thing?” Willow kept her voice soft and upbeat hoping that she wouldn’t alarm her friend or worse, enrage her. “But, um, danger…there’s danger?”

Buffy’s eyes fell on her as the question squeaked out of her mouth and Willow froze in terror.  The blonde’s eyes narrowed as she studied the redhead’s features, her eyes focusing somewhere behind her. And Willow could feel then, could sense it with some other part of herself. It wasn’t Buffy behind those eyes. It was the Slayer, studying her with all of her senses, both physical and supernatural. Assessing the threat.

Willow swallowed past the lump in her throat, wondering again what the Slayer saw when she looked at her. Why she never met her eyes. Did she see the dark magic there?  Because it would always be there. She knew that now. It was a part of her, a part she could control. A part she never wanted to see again. The coven had explained that to her. There was no difference between dark and light magic, it was how you used it. And she had used it badly, but there was no way to reverse that. There was only the way forward if her friends would allow her that. Just that one small thing.

The only problem with forward was that it lead farther and farther from Tara. That was a conflict she hadn’t been able to resolve yet. Maybe she would find a way to go forward without leaving everything behind. Maybe sideways? Or on a diagonal?

Buffy shook her head and met Willow’s eyes for the first time. “Yeah, danger. Of the Big Bad variety.” The Slayer’s forehead furrowed and she looked at the floor.

“Um, okay…” Willow fumbled unsure of what to say. There was a Big Bad and no one had told her about it. Of course, she had sensed something, had discussed it Giles, but the fact that the rest of the Scoobies hadn’t thought to confide in her…did they think she was involved in some way? “So, is it demon, hell-god or…oh my God! Is Dawn dating a frat boy?”

Buffy almost laughed at Willow’s attempt at humor, “Don’t even joke about Dawn dating frat boys…or Dawn dating. Remember how that turned out the last time…” And then her friend’s smile quickly faded into deep sadness. “It’s…things and some vision that Cordelia had,” Buffy’s eyes rolled up into her head as she mentioned the former cheerleader’s supernatural powers. Well, at least some things never changed. They would always be able to bond over Cordelia-bashing.

Willow took a deep breath worried suddenly about the contents of this vision. “So, what did the former Queen of Mean see?”

There were a few moments of silence as the two stood facing each other. Willow knew that Buffy was weighing the situation in her mind. Whether to trust her or not. With a loud sigh, the Slayer finally pulled a small wooden box from her pocket and set it on the formica counter next to them.

“This. And some other things that I didn’t believe, but…” the Slayer shrugged.

“That came true,” Willow finished for her and the blonde nodded slightly. “Like?”

“Well, they were all so ridiculous. Like, would you believe it if someone told you Faith would save my life?” Buffy asked pacing the room, the strong muscles in her jaw working visibly under the skin.

“No.” Willow’s knees felt weak. Faith. Well, that was certainly the last thing she could imagine. The Dark Slayer had just dropped off their radar since her last appearance. Her betrayal had seemed so insignificant when they were facing a hell-God and Buffy’s death. Not to mention Dark Magic Willow. But there it was, the old anger that Faith’s name inevitably roused in the redhead. _And jealousy_, Willow admitted to herself ruefully. It was always jealousy. She could feel it burrowing its way down toward the dark places where the magic waited. Waiting to punish Faith for the past. But she was different now. Everything was different now.

“But she did…save your life?” Willow asked carefully and paused to pull two bottles of water from the refrigerator handing one to her best friend.

Buffy looked surprised by the response, but accepted the water with a genuine if slight smile. “Thanks.” The Slayer stopped to take a drink and Willow jumped up to sit on the counter. “Yeah, I was ambushed by about six vamps,” she recounted without emotion as if trying to distance herself from the event.s. “Somebody or some body hit me from behind and when I came to, Faith was there. She staked two of them and gave me enough time to recover…” she trailed off suddenly and looked out the window at the dark sky. “You know, I swore the next time I saw her…” Buffy failed to finish her sentence again and Willow followed her friend’s thoughts to their obvious conclusion. Because Buffy had sworn to kill Faith for what she had done to her lover and to herself. But she hadn’t and Willow had. Willow had taken her own murderous revenge and it had cost them all dearly.

“So that’s what Cordy saw?” Willow tried to steer their conversation back to the events at hand because as much as they needed to have that discussion she knew she wasn’t ready to have it yet. Not with Buffy.

“Yeah, that and the box,” she motioned to the wooden box on the counter and then shivered. “Which totally gives me the wiggins, by the way.”

Willow felt her forehead tighten into deep lines. The Slayer’s ‘wiggins’ were never to be taken lightly. “What about the box?” Willow asked past the sudden tightness in her throat.

“Oh, you know, your run of the mill end of the world stuff,” Buffy answered in her stock, impending-apocalypse flippant voice. “Except in this version you and I use it to set off the end of the world. Or some big mega-merging of dimensions, blah, blah, blah.”

Willow’s face grew pale and she felt for the cold counter to steady herself. “Oh, great.” She squeaked. “So, I’m thinking we get it out of here, like, now.”

Buffy grimaced, “That’s funny, that’s what Faith said too. That we should let her have it –“  she rolled her eyes again. “like I would trust her with some end-of-the-world thingie.” Buffy took another long slow drink from her water bottle. “Besides, I’m thinking that this is one for Scooby research. Cordy wasn’t all that clear on the details… actually she wasn’t really clear on anything besides Faith, so I’m thinking we should see what we can dig up.”

The world was spinning around Willow. She felt faint. Two weeks back in Sunnydale and she was working on another apocalypse that might be set off by her own actions. Again.

_End of the world. End of the world. End of the world. Why is it always the end of the world? Couldn’t it be the end of cheese or something?_

“Wil? You okay with this?” Buffy asked gently, looking intently into Willow’s eyes. The redhead took a deep breath and nodded emphatically.

“What do you need me to do?”

And a miracle happened. Buffy actually smiled at the familiar words that still hung in the air between them. Willow had said them hundreds of times to her best friend, but this was the first time…since. _And maybe_, Willow thought as her heart raced, _maybe this can be the first step forward… even if it does mean the end of the world_, she thought with a wry smile and then felt the familiar set of resolve face spread over her features. _End of the world schmend of the world! Who cares. _ Her world had ended in the upstairs bedroom four months ago. All she had left was in the kitchen with her now and she would do anything to get it back. To go forward from here. Willow nodded and smiled at the comforting sounds of Buffy running through the finer points of her “plan.”

*****

_Okay, so things are almost back to normal, whatever normal is,_ Buffy thought as she walked briskly to the first house on her list.  Dawn’s newest friend, Rain. Dawn had gushed about her for the past week so it was a safe bet that her sister was here. _And what kind of name is Rain anyway? Hi, I’m Storm Summers. Like Buffy’s such a normal name..._

Buffy stopped on the sidewalk in front of a modest-looking, but well-kept home, not the mansion she was expecting after the endless Rain monologue: Rain drives a Mercedes. Rain went to Paris this summer. The younger Summers’ mantra of the past weeks cycled in her head. Rain, Rain, Rain. Her inner rant was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of her ‘spidey senses’ going into overdrive.

“Great, my sister’s a runaway and the place is crawling with vampires,” she muttered and began a quick visual sweep of the neighborhood. Nothing.

She sucked in an enormous breath and steeled herself for the coming confrontation. “Hi Mr and Mrs. Rain, sorry to bother you at nine thirty, but there are vampires in your yard and my sister’s a…”

Her voice caught in her throat as every hair on her body seemed to stand on end at once, but this was different than the normal vampire alert. Something powerful was nearby, something familiar. It felt as if the air was charged, like lightning was about to strike. She had only felt this way around…

“Faith!” she called angrily at the stand of her trees to her right. All of this Dawn drama had brought her to the end of what was becoming a very short rope. Her temper was about to flare white hot.

After a few long moments the Dark Slayer emerged, arms crossed clad in her usual black leather pants and boots. A tight black top under a dark leather jacket made the image complete. _Great! Dark Slayer meet Twinkie Slayer dressed in her ready-to-meet-the-parents yuppie wear._ Buffy sighed. Round two and she was already at a disadvantage.

“Took you long enough B, thought you were getting deaf in your old age.” Faith smirked as she assessed Buffy’s ensemble. “So how’s the whole Meg Ryan look working out for you?”

The blonde Slayer took another long, deep cleansing breath and tried to suppress the rage that threatened to overwhelm her at the mere sight of the other Slayer.

“You know, I was so looking for an ass to kick tonight,” she began, shedding the silk jacket as she took a step toward Faith, “might as well be yours,” she took a swing and missed by a millimeter as the other Slayer ducked in surprise. “Besides, I owe you one,” Buffy muttered as she circled her prey. “Or two, or three…”

“Whoa!” Faith’s face had changed from her usual arrogant smirk to a look of desperate confusion. “Look, I’m sorry B.” She held her hands up in front of her body, palms forward. “Believe it or not I didn’t come here to fight.”

Buffy continued to circle Faith, but the Dark Slayer still refused to engage her standing flat-footed with her hands up. _Fight me you psycho!_ “Um, I don’t know…not!” Buffy challenged.

“Didn’t Angel tell you –“

“Oh, that’s right, you two are buddies now. Guess you finally won that one,” Buffy spat the words at the younger Slayer and swung catching her with a straight right. Faith’s fell to her knees in Rain’s perfectly manicured yard. The blonde Slayer prepared herself for a counter-attack, but it didn’t come. Faith stayed kneeling on the ground, her head ducked in submission.

“Don’t exactly remember winning anything except a prison sentence,” she heard the Dark Slayer mutter.

 “So you’re just here to help,” Buffy growled, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah. Angel told me that things were about to get ugly for you and that I had to do something about it. Cordy and her fucking visions or whatever.”

“So what did he tell you?” she challenged.

“That you were in danger and something about that box…it’s not cool,” the dark slayer continued still looking straight ahead. Buffy remembered a Psych paper with sudden clarity. Something about prison inmates unable to look people in the eye after their release. That juxtaposed with a film about wolves and their complicated non-verbal language. Because we’re all still animals and a direct stare is a direct threat in that other language that most of us have forgotten.

“I just can’t believe they let you out. You’re a murderer.”

Faith’s head snapped up to face her and Buffy felt a smug satisfaction. Finally. Maybe now they could fight. Maybe they could finish this once and for all. But all of the fight left her body when she saw the deep pain in Faith’s eyes. And the blood. Her lip was torn and bloody from the blonde Slayer’s punch and her arms hung limp at her sides.

“Neither can I,” she said hoarsely. “Look, just give me the box, B. Let me do the right thing for once.”

Buffy felt something break inside her at the sound of the other Slayer’s voice. She hadn’t even dared to hope for a moment like this. She had buried any idea of it so far down that it now surprised her how much hope she had. But it wasn’t possible. This was another game. Faith was playing them all again. Angel. Cordy. Everyone.

“You! Do the right thing! How many chances am I supposed to give you?” buffy found herself yelling at the top of her voice. And worse, she was now standing over the kneeling Slayer threatening her with her fists. She felt separated from herself, but the other Slayer had always done this to her. Brought out the demon in her. “You don’t know how to do the right thing Faith. You never—“

“B, it’s you and Red who start the apocalypse in Cordy’s vision. Not me.” she said it calmly. Her voice even and soft.

“Buffy?” It was Dawn’s voice behind her. “What are you doing out here? Are you insane?”

Buffy swung in one quick movement to confront her sister. “What are you doing here Dawn? I told you –“

“Faith?” Dawn interrupted her sister and bounded down the stairs toward the Dark Slayer. Buffy paused for a moment, t_hey know each other? Of course they know each other. The monks, _she reminded herself_. _ She realized with a start that she was staring at a very nervous, very pretty girl who was standing in the bright light on the porch.

“Um, hi, I’m Buffy. You must be Rain,” she managed and the girl gave her a small nervous wave. _Way to make an entrance Buffy_, she chastised herself again. The sound of her sister’s ecstatic squeals finally made her turn to the Dark Slayer who was now swinging her sister in a high arc.

When she finally touched ground again Dawn stood laughing and admiring the younger Slayer. “When did you get out…” Dawn glanced back at the porch nervously. “…of school?”

Faith smiled and rolled her eyes and Buffy could have sworn she saw tears. “I, um, graduated in June,” she smiled and then regained a little of her characteristic bravado. “And you’re looking hot Half Pint. When did you grow up?”

Dawn blushed and ducked her head and Buffy felt the monks’ implanted memories wash over her filling in the gaps. Images of Dawn following the Dark Slayer around all moony-eyed. Her sister had idolized Faith from the moment she had set eyes on her. And Faith had always given the girl her undivided attention even sneaking Dawn out on a patrol with her when her sister was only eleven. “What? The girl needs to know how to defend herself,” was the only defense Faith had offered at the time. And at some point Dawn’s idolization had blossomed into a full-blown crush and Faith teased her lightly whenever she got the chance.

Buffy found herself smiling at the memories. Even if they aren’t real, she thought sadly, they were accurate. _Look at the two of them. It’s disgusting. Faith did everything she could to hurt me and Dawn thinks she’s the coolest thing since sliced cheese or whatever._

Once again, she felt the anger rising up in her throat. It wasn’t fair. Dawn hated her and loved this evil…

“I’m as tall as you now so maybe I can finally borrow your leather pants?” Dawn flirted playfully.

“Sure if you don’t mind that I wear them commando –“ the Dark Slayer began with an amused smirk only to be cut off abruptly.

“Ew!” Dawn squealed and pushed the Dark Slayer’s shoulder turning Faith directly into the light from the porch. Her sister’s smile disappeared immediately. “Faith, what…?” she whirled on Buffy in a rage, “What did you do to her?”

Before Buffy could answer Faith intervened. “Hey, down, Half Pint. It was a v- ...”  Faith glanced at Rain on the porch and managed a pathetic “…v-very big mugger.” She wiped at the blood with her sleeve and smiled brightly at Dawn. “Besides, you think your sister could do this much damage? Look at her, she’s so thin, she’d break if she hit me this hard.”

Dawn’s face turned slowly from rage to amused doubt. Buffy knew her sister didn’t believe the story, but with a quick nervous glance at Rain still on the porch, Dawn had decided to let it go. For now.

Buffy decided to go on the offensive before her sister could recover. “Dawn, I told you to stay home tonight.”

Dawn immediately went into righteous angry teenager mode. “I know but Rain wanted to do a whole _Matrix_ fest and you weren’t around…” Buffy put her hand up to stop the inevitable ten minute monologue. “Fine. But you’re grounded for two weeks. And be home at ten tomorrow morning and ready to do dishes.”

Dawn groaned, but accepted her punishment. She turned back to Faith. “And don’t leave without stopping by this time. Okay?”

Faith managed a pained smile as she exchanged a quick glance with Buffy. They both knew that the last time Faith had ‘failed to say good-bye,’ she had actually taken Joyce hostage in their home and switched bodies with Dawn’s sister. “How about Sunday, I’ll come around and hang out if it’s okay with your sister.”

“Cool!” she turned to Buffy with her best pleading, puppy-dog face. “Can I Buffy? Can I? Please, please, please…” Buffy stared at her little sister and back at Faith narrowing her eyes slightly. Once again, she was the bad guy and Faith was the hero. Well, at least that way she could keep an eye on the rogue Slayer because she knew she couldn’t deny Dawn another person that the teenager had lost. Unlike Tara, Faith had managed to come back.

“Alright! But dishes…”

Dawn began to dance in place with excitement.

“Yes! Ten o’clock. Dishes and maybe I’ll even vacuum.” Dawn ran squealing up the porch. “Oh my god Rain, I can’t believe Faith is back!”

“And Dawn, stay here all night. And don’t invite anyone in…”

“Yep,” her sister responded absently.

“And no wishes!” she finished hotly.

The two teenagers turned to enter the house and she could hear Rain speaking in hushed tones, “so were they, like, together or something before? You know like Willow and Tara…”

Dawn’s response was lost as the door closed leaving the two Slayers alone again in the dark. She knew Faith had heard Rain’s question and waited for the inevitable barbs and innuendo. But there was nothing, just strained silence.

“Well congratulations,” she began half-heartedly. “My sister still thinks you hung the sun.”

“Um, it’s the moon I think,” Faith corrected gently. “Thanks… you know, for not…whatever.”

Buffy found herself speechless for the fifth or sixth time that night. First an apology and now thanks. Well, almost thanks.

“Kind of had other things on my mind,” she responded testily. “And the last thing Dawn needed after Mom died was to hear that her hero was an…” Buffy trailed off unable to find the nastiness the end of the statement required. Why did it always go this way with Faith? Why couldn’t she control herself, her emotions around this girl?

“Evil bitch?” Faith offered, one eyebrow raising slightly.

“Yeah. That works,” Buffy snapped back and then surprised herself by chuckling briefly. And there was silence again.

“So, the box…”

“You’re not getting it.” Buffy stared down the younger Slayer daring her to challenge her, but Faith just shrugged and looked up at the moon.

“Then you’re not getting rid of me,” she said softly and then returned her stare to the blonde. Their eyes locked for long moments until Faith finally smiled and looked away.

“Great,” the blonde muttered as she picked up her jacket and began the long walk home. A long walk that meant too much time to think about her actions tonight.  She had been right to attack Faith hadn’t she? No matter what the Dark Slayer said, she couldn’t be trusted… and she was stalking her, which was so not cool. Definitely in the right on that one…right?

_Just walk. You have more important things to worry about tonight. Just walk and breathe and forget about her._

Buffy didn’t bother to look back. Faith would follow her like a shadow. Like regret. Some things never changed. 

****

Willow smiled again at the laptop screen. Even though she had spent the past two hours searching in vain for anything about the object in the box, she still felt somehow victorious. She was useful again. She was a Scooby. Even if it was a bit strange that the Slayer had suddenly decided to trust her with something this dangerous. _Not gonna dwell on that. Moving forward…_

But there was still the box, or more importantly, its contents. It had taken her over ten minutes to get the nerve up to open it only to find that it didn’t contain a boobytrap or a doomsday device that began counting down as soon as the top was lifted. Inside was an innocuous-looking, beautifully crafted metal object resting in black velvet. A series of small stars was etched into its otherwise seamless surface, but their arrangement seemed random. _Not a constellation, or at least not one I recognize_, which brought Willow’s thoughts back to Tara and her universe of unique constellations. _Well, if you close one eye it could be the Big Pineapple, _she smiled wistfully and then shook her head as her eyes began to tear up. There was something compelling about those stars, something familiar and sad…

_Okay, not gonna go there right now._

_Forward Rosenburg …or diagonal maybe._

When she finished the minor tweaks to the search bot she fired off an email to Giles about their situation and was surprised to receive an autoresponder reporting that the Watcher was ‘out of the office’ until the end of the month. An autoresponder? From Giles? It was inconceivable from a man who took such pride in despising all things digital. It had taken Willow nearly two hours to show him how to simply open the email client. Another three to teach him to send and retrieve mail.

“Giles, you sneaky….” What would make the Watcher go AWOL now when he knew she needed him? A rueful smile played across her lips. Because she needed him. And so did Buffy. The Slayer would undoubtedly try to contact the Watcher for a second opinion on the situation. An opinion other than Willow’s. And the Watcher was forcing their hand. Forcing them to work together again. _Or maybe he’s got a hot date_, she thought with a chuckle. _I hope you have a hot date Giles, ‘cause someone in the Scoobies definitely should be getting some…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming downstairs and then the unmistakable sound of the Slayer’s angry footfalls on the stairs. _Great, now what have I done? _

Willow hit the key to launch her customized search bot and turned to face whatever fury the Slayer had in store for her, but Buffy stopped short at the door to Willow’s room like a Vampire without an invitation. The blonde’s forehead was deeply etched in angry lines. Willow took a deep breath waiting for the inevitable accusations and recriminations, but again, there was only silence.

“Buff? Are you okay?” The Slayer nodded once and gestured toward the wooden box.

“Find anything?”

Willow shook her head, her worry growing by the second. In her vast experience, a quiet Slayer was a dangerous Slayer. It was a warning sign: Hurricane Buffy ahead. “Um, no, not yet.” She typed in a few more commands and turned back to the Slayer. “Did you find Dawn?”

“Uh huh.” The Slayer nodded and then dropped back into her brooding, folding her arms tightly around herself.

Willow frowned at a new security feature in the Council’s access codes and looked back to Buffy. She wanted to laugh and share the Council’s pathetic attempts at security with her best friend, but knew she would draw at best a blank stare. So she opted for a loud, meaningful sigh instead. “Is this twenty questions? ‘Cause if it is that’s cool, but it would probably take less time…”

“Dawn was at Rain’s house-“

“Rain? As in forty percent chance of?” Willow couldn’t mask her amusement.

“Yeah, I know – Willow tree…” the Slayer almost smiled again, but immediately dropped into a terrifying frown.

“So I take it something happened?” the redhead prodded her friend gently. “Something besides your usual Summers sisters argument?”

The muscles in Buffy’s jaw clenched immediately and Willow knew she was in dangerous territory. One misstep and the fury the Slayer was suppressing would be misdirected -- in her direction.

“Uh-huh.”

And then she knew without any doubt the only thing that could put Buffy in such a state without actually hurting anyone. Well, except Spike.

“Faith.” Willow whispered the word as if the Dark Slayer’s name could somehow conjure her into the room. Felt the hissing of its soft sounds slip between them like a knife.

“Uh-huh.”

“Did she hurt Dawn?” Willow asked and suddenly remembered the Dark Slayer’s affectionate relationship with the younger Summers. Dawn was the only person in Buffy’s world Faith hadn’t attacked. Why would she try to hurt her now?

“No. No hurting. She’d never hurt Dawn….she just…” Buffy let out an angry laugh and frowned. “She said she wants to help! Do you believe that?” And suddenly, they were too close to Willow’s own situation. Her own desperation and need. To be believed. To be forgiven. How ironic that she and Faith finally had something in common. Buffy, thankfully, didn’t seem to see the parallel.

“Do you?” Willow asked without thinking. “Believe that?”

Buffy turned on her, mouth open, face pinched in righteous anger and Willow prepared herself for the coming storm. But it didn’t arrive. The Slayer stood above her in a threatening posture, finger pointing at the redhead accusingly, but there was only confusion in her face now.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled softly and her face tightened again, hands falling useless to her sides. “I mean, I want…’cause even Angel’s all with the forgiveness…but she’s, like, the queen of the double cross and backstabbing…and she took my Mom hostage and Angel with the poison…” The Slayer threw her hands up in the air in angry frustration. “And I…” Buffy’s eyes found Willow’s and looked deeply into them, as if she were searching for answers hidden there. The two women remained that way, Willow forcing herself to meet the pain and fear in her best friend’s hazel gaze. “I just don’t know if I can ever trust her again, you know?” the Slayer finally said softly.

Willow swallowed the sob that threatened to erupt into the room, but the tears, she couldn’t hold those back. They streamed down her face as she nodded once almost imperceptibly to let the Slayer know that she understood. That they were no longer talking about Faith. Buffy’s eyes were tearing up as well, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to keep her grief in check. At the sight of the Slayer’s tears Willow felt suddenly detached, studying the strange mix of emotions as if from a distance. It was a trick Ruth had taught her. A way to buy time before acting out her grief and pain with magic.

She noted with sadness the part of herself that wanted to rise up in angry defense of her own actions -- Buffy had stabbed Faith for Angel, why couldn’t she be forgiven for wanting to avenge Tara? -- but the larger part wanted to take her longtime friend in her arms and hold her, finally give Buffy the comfort she had been searching for. She wanted to forgive her friend for not being able to forgive her.

But she couldn’t. Her arms were bound to her sides by fear and grief. She couldn’t touch anyone. Not since Tara…

“I’m sorry B-“ Willow began, her voice hoarse with unshed tears, but she was interrupted abruptly by an insistent ‘bing’ from the laptop.

Both women looked up simultaneously to find the source of the intrusion.

“Um, search bot,” Willow explained, wiping clumsily at the tears on her face. She turned with a mixture of regret and relief to the comfort of her laptop and away from the bright pain waiting between herself and Buffy.  “It’s probably nothing…” she began expecting another long list of mis-hits, but there it was. It was obvious from the keywords that someone knew what they were talking about. She clicked on the promising link and began to scan the contents of the page rapidly.

“So, is it Tiffany? Can we take it on the Antiques Roadshow?” Buffy joked nervously and Willow noted in her peripheral vision that the Slayer was carefully drying her eyes.

“Um, it’s demon,” she answered absently as she was drawn into the star chart that matched the strange configuration on the object almost exactly. “So, not exactly Antiques Roadshow material. Well, maybe the English version…” which elicited a grateful smile from Buffy. She returned her attention to the page and clicked on a few links. It wasn’t much, but at least they had something. Her eyes returned to the object in the box and she felt the familiar feeling of sadness and longing wash over her again.

“Anything interesting?” Buffy prodded gently and Willow shook herself out of her reverie.

“Um, yeah. The stars etched into the surface. I thought they were just ornamental, but it looks like they’re a constellation…” she trailed off concentrating again on the text before her.

“Like the Big Dipper?”

Willow smiled slightly and looked up at the Slayer, “Not exactly. A constellation that’s only visible in a demon dimension.”

“Oh. So more like the Big Ripper?”

Willow nodded absently, but kept her attention fixed on the page before her. It was fascinating. If this page was accurate, she was reading a legend born in a different dimension. A demon fairy tale. But for all the differences it sounded strangely familiar. She felt Buffy move behind her in the room and deduced quickly that the Slayer was checking out the demon device. It struck her suddenly that she had only been alone in this room since her return. No other living human body had shared this space with Willow since that day four months ago…

“Oh Orpheus!” Willow was shocked by her own outburst, but the realization had struck her like a thunderbolt and demanded release. “It’s the Orpheus myth.”

“Who?”

Willow turned to find the Slayer with her hand still in mid-air hovering over the device. “Orpheus. And no, I haven’t gotten up the nerve to actually touch it yet,” she answered Buffy’s unspoken question. The Slayer nodded once and removed the metallic object carefully from the box.

“So who is this Orifice guy?” she asked casually.

“Um, Orpheus.” Willow stifled a laugh at the Slayer’s typical malapropism. It was comforting to know that some things never changed. “It’s Greek mythology.” When her explanation was met by a blank stare, Willow continued, “Okay, Orpheus was this superstar lyre player in ancient Greece who fell in love. Only, um, she died…his love I mean.” The redhead stumbled and took a deep breath, “But he couldn’t live without her, so he went to Hades, played his lyre for the big demon god in charge and Big Demon was so impressed he said that Orpheus could take her back…” Willow’s voice trailed off again. The details of the legend eluded her for a moment, becoming mixed with the distorted details of the demon legend and her own experience.

“But there was a catch?” the Slayer’s comment brought Willow back to the room and her explanation.

“Um, yeah.”

“There’s always a catch,” Buffy smiled proud of her correct assessment.

“The deal was that Orpheus could have his love back, that she could follow him back to the surface, but he had to keep playing and not stop.”

“That’s all,” Buffy asked obviously disappointed.

“Well, he also couldn’t look back to make sure she was behind him,” the redhead answered, careful to keep any emotion out of her voice.

“I take it he looked.”

“Yep,” Willow nodded once and Buffy rolled her eyes in disgust. “Just before he got to the surface.” A strange silence had descended on the room and Willow found herself automatically filling the empty space. _Just like Old Willow would_, she thought as the words tumbled out of her. “The last thing he saw of her, was her soul being pulled back into hell.” She shivered at the image that had haunted her since childhood. For some reason her mother had decided that the myth of Orpheus was suitable bedtime reading for a nine year-old. “Gotta love those Greeks and their flair for gut-wrenching tragedy…”

“Oh my God. That’s…” the Slayer began and then trailed off shaking her head.

“So sad, I know,” Willow finished for her.

“No, it’s stupid!” Somehow Willow had stumbled unwittingly onto the trigger for the Slayer’s pent-up fury. Buffy was now pacing angrily, clenching the demon device tightly in her palm as she muttered about Xander leaving Anya at the altar and then something indecipherable about Riley.

“Um, Buffy…” Willow began, motioning carefully toward the Slayer’s clenched fist. _Oh god, we have no idea how this device actually works. Anything could set it off._

“I mean, what is wrong with these people? Can’t they just…”

“It’s just a myth,” Willow interrupted gently hoping to defuse the situation automatically closing her eyes to begin one of Ruth’s meditation techniques gently extending the circle of calm to include her friend. “And the device…”

“Yeah, I know it’s just…” Buffy paused and removed the demon device from her iron grip. “Well, it doesn’t crush easily,” she offered with a smile releasing her anger with a shrug.

Willow blinked slowly and allowed herself one more cleansing breath before focusing once more on the metallic object that Buffy now held between her thumb and forefinger. “That could be a good thing…or a bad thing if we actually want to destroy this demon-end-of-the-world machine.”

The Slayer studied the object carefully as she mumbled absently to her friend, “Are you sure it’s a machine? ‘Cause I’m not seeing any screws or seams or anything…”

Willow turned her attention back to the keyboard, quickly modifying a program to break the Council’s weak security precaution. “No. I don’t know what it is. So far the only clue we have is this demon myth and whatever Cordy told you.” Buffy again rolled her eyes at the mention of the Seer.

“It doesn’t sound like much of a demon myth to me. I mean, what kind of demon plays a liar and gets all mushy over love and…”

“I said it _sounded_ like Orpheus. The demon version was some kind of warrior-cannibal whose love slave gets killed so he goes and defeats all of the underworld god’s gladiators to get her back and…” Willow trailed off as the look on Buffy’s face turned to one of focused concentration. “Did you find something?”

“Yeah,” the Slayer mumbled absently and then scraped at something with her fingernail. Willow cringed visibly trying to hide her growing panic and disapproval. Delicate was never a word used to describe the Slayer and delicacy was definitely an asset when dealing with an apocalyptic demon device.

“There’s something written here…” Buffy squinted and held the device closer to her face.

“Wait! I’ll get a magnifying glass,” she crossed the room quickly to search through her nightstand. The soft sounds of the Slayer’s muttering were barely audible over the noise of her desperate search for a glass. “Um, and you might not want to hold it that close to your…”

 “Oh! What does Tempus Fugit…?”

“No!” Willow practically leapt across the room to cover her best friend’s mouth with her hand, but it was too late. The spell was cast. “Oh God  Buffy…” She felt herself involuntarily reaching down into her own power to protect them or worse, to strike out against the magical charge that was quickly building around them. As the power poured out of her she felt it circling with the energy of the device in a terrifying feedback loop. _Okay, this definitely has the potential to become an apocalyptic event_, she had to give Cordy that much.

“Wha-“ The Slayer’s words were lost in the energy cyclone of the spell as it spun around then drawing them into a smaller and smaller space. Willow was rapidly losing her internal battle for control and the Slayer’s panicked gaze locked with her own only made the pull stronger. Everything in her was screaming that she needed to protect them, to save Buffy. That no one else she loved could be lost.  And the dark magic moved in deepening waves through her system like nausea. Like pain and grief. The riptide of magic and power pulling her farther and farther from the shore of herself until…

With sudden clarity her eyes found a small photo of Tara visible on the shelf behind Buffy’s head. It was the only photo of the blonde she allowed herself. Willow had taken it at that first birthday of Tara’s at the Bronze. The first birthday they had shared. Her blonde hair was tousled from a stolen moment with Willow in the bathroom. Her lips were red and swollen from kissing, but it was the smile in her eyes that mattered. That lopsided smile that was only for Willow. A smile of promise and love.

The world spun around her, but the pull receded until there was just the two of them. Tara soothing her with gentle fingers of calm weaving through red hair, through the everything of them.

Tara…

And then the light and the heat…and nothing.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Willow!”

The room was too bright, migraine-bright. She raised a heavy hand to shield her eyes from the glare.

“Wha?”

“Willow what did you do?” Blinking her eyes against terrible white, Willow tried to focus on the source of the sound. Buffy. A very angry Buffy. _What did I do?_

“Buffy?” she croaked and opened her eyes slightly, still struggling to orient herself. Everything seemed slightly…off. She couldn’t seem to find her balance in the blinding room. Thankfully she was sitting on something soft. The bed? But the room shouldn’t be bright, it was dark outside.

And then she remembered. The device, the demon myth and Buffy speaking something in Latin. And then the Dark Magic.

_Tempus Fugit. _

_Don’t say it. Don’t say it out loud._

_Time flies…_

“What did you do Willow?” The Slayer’s voice was rising in pitch moving rapidly toward angry hysteria.

“What…I didn’t do anything.” Willow mumbled and opened her eyes a little further.

“I saw your eyes! They went all black and then…and then we were here!”

_Oh god, where are we? Some demon dimension?_

Willow opened her eyes through a stabbing headache of white to find that they were in their dorm room on campus. She looked around in disbelief at the twin beds, their stuffed animals and the Chocolate poster on the back of their door.

_Okay, this is strange. Our dorm room?  Doesn’t seem too demon-y yet…_

She began to cycle rapidly through the possibilities_: demon device so I’m thinking either alternate reality where Buffy and I still live in the dorms or…this is some kind of joint hallucination…_

“Undo it!”

“What?” Willow looked up to find the Slayer staring down at her with hands on hips. Everything about her posture was threatening.

“You did this Willow,” the Slayer gestured at the familiar objects in the room, her voice rapidly dropping into a growl “so make with the undoing. Now.”

Willow took a long breath and tried to center herself.

“I didn’t do it Buffy…” she began calmly only to be interrupted by a furious Slayer.

“I saw your eyes…”

And that was it. She had tried for so long to win her best friend’s trust. To earn it through her actions, not with explanations and promises, but this was too much.

“You did it Buffy! You! Not me!” Willow yelled and then put her hand over her eyes again to shield them from the light and her best friend’s accusatory expression. Buffy still stood above her and Willow sighed deeply, “It was the device. The demon device. Remember?” Buffy’s expression was still angry, but her head tilted slightly to the left.

“How…”

“The engraving on the back,” Willow got up and walked past her friend to the mini-frig. She pulled out a water, pressed its cool surface to her forehead and turned back to Buffy. “When you said the words out loud it must have activated it.”

“Temp-“

“Don’t!” Willow’s eyes flew open and she noticed that the muscles in Buffy’s jaw were knotted with pent-up rage. _Well, at least if she beats me to death I won’t have to deal with this migraine,_ she thought with a wry smile. Careful to keep her voice calm and low she approached the Slayer, “I wouldn’t say it again. We don’t know what it’ll do.”

“So if that’s true then what was with all the black?” Buffy challenged suspiciously, but Willow noted with relief that the Slayer’s shoulders were relaxed slightly.  The threat had passed. Almost.

“I tried to stop it,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “the spell,” she added as an afterthought and then began to study her surroundings. She couldn’t remember exactly what was in their dorm room, but this definitely felt right. The anonymous stuffed animals on her bed, Mr. Gordo on Buffy’s. And Buffy’s outfit was so…freshman year. And the incessant whine of a Britney Spears song was audible from next door. She looked down to find that she was dressed in a long blue skirt she’d thrown out a year ago and a favorite t-shirt that she hadn’t been able to throw it out even though it was so worn as to be unwearable. _because I wore this shirt the first time Tara and I kissed…_

She looked down again at the bright colors of her t-shirt.

_And it looks brand new._

 “Oh God,” Willow looked around the room wildly, looking for something to confirm her suspicions.

“What is it?” Buffy’s voice was tight with concern. “Wil what’s going on? Where are we? I mean, okay, I know we’re in our dorm…” All of the anger was gone from her friend’s body and voice replaced now by fear.

“I don’t…” Willow began and then scanned her friend’s clothing before letting her eyes rest on the calendar above The Slayer’s bed. She couldn’t see the date, but she didn’t have to, looking instead to the black bulky watch on her wrist. “I’m thinking maybe it’s when we are that matters.”

 

****

 

Willow sat back down onto the twin bed, noting the familiar creak of its uncomfortable box springs. The icy cold of the water bottle was now pressed to the back of her neck alleviating some of the pain.

“I’m sorry Wil, I just….,” the Slayer began, her voice low and halting.

“It’s okay Buff. Really,” Willow interjected hastily. She wasn’t expecting an apology and she certainly wasn’t prepared to have an emotional discussion right now.

“No. No it’s not, I shouldn’t have assumed…just because….”

Willow opened one eye slightly to find that the blonde was now sitting on the bed across from her, kneading her hands in agitation. It was such a familiar feeling, the two of them here in this room facing each other and sharing pain. _But it was never pain like this. It was Riley and Oz pain. Nothing like this. _

“Buffy, my eyes went all with the black, big magic ensued and we’re here…” she motioned at their surroundings. “It was the logical conclusion.”

The Slayer stood up and began to pace. “I just can’t believe I…I mean, it never works like that with two words and poof. You usually need stinky herbs and someone has to do the hokey-pokey and…not just two little words!”  She stood again facing Willow, her forehead lined and angry. “I can’t believe I did this. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. I think we should probably be thinking less about the blame and more about the getting the hell out of here…” the redhead trailed off wincing in pain. “Do you remember where we kept the advil-type stuff?”

Buffy immediately leapt into action, obviously glad to have something to do. As she searched through desk drawers Willow focused on another meditation technique she had learned for just this situation, concentrating on raising the temperature of her hands. As the migraine slowly eased she could hear her friend’s nervous rambling through the meditation.

“Are you okay? I mean your head?” Buffy asked and extended two orange pills. Willow carefully withdrew herself from the meditation and accepted the pills. “Wow. Hot hands,” the Slayer said with a nervous smile.

“Yeah,” Willow offered with a bit more strength. “It’s a trick to get rid of migraines only I don’t think they had witches in mind when they came up with it,” she said as she held up one glowing hand.

“Was it the magic? Your head?”

Willow nodded and then winced at the new round of stabbing pain the movement brought on. “Big magic leads to big headache,” she said weakly. “But, hey, no nosebleed,” she offered with a smile.

Buffy nodded once, her own smile rapidly fading replaced by what Willow and Tara had long ago secretly dubbed Colonel Buffy. “Okay, so we’re stuck here and I’m not seeing any demon device,” her eyes quickly scanned the room. “So now I’m thinking research. We could call Giles,” she offered hopefully.

“Yeah.” Willow offered. “But if it’s a time machine, which it probably is, then we’re in serious trouble.”

“Why? I mean, I’m not seeing the big bad here. We figure out how to get back and do it, right?”

“Well, almost.” Willow’s forehead furrowed into her trademark expression of deep concentration. “Except if we’re really back in the past then anything we  do could radically change the future.  Chaos theory. Sensitive dependence on initial conditions, you know, like the butterfly effect.”

“Okay, you totally lost me, Wil…butterfly what?”

“Basically any small change can have a huge effect. Like a butterfly flapping its wings in the Amazon could cause a hurricane in the Caribbean.” Still a blank stare. “Or, a more specific Buffy example would be me taking the water from the fridge could lead to something terrible. I know it sounds crazy, but what if you go looking for a water to take on patrol in a couple of days, but there isn’t one because I came back in time and took it. So you go downstairs to the soda machine to get one and that takes you two minutes longer than it should have. And before, in the timeline where I didn’t get back, you totally missed this huge pack of demons because you walked through too early, but now you’re two minutes late so…”

Buffy was nodding her head in recognition so Willow trailed off. “Oh not good.” And then it really hit her. “Oh God! Really not good!”

Willow nodded. “Yep. Really not good.”

“So we’ve really got to get out of here.”

“Yeah, but we don’t even know how to do that, so until we do, we need to do everything as much like we did before as we possible can.”

“How are we supposed to do that? I mean, I don’t’ remember what I had for breakfast.” she said desperately. “Back in the real now,” she finished and shook her head in confusion.

Willow moved to her backpack and fished around until she found the familiar edges of her overstuffed filofax. “Well, this should help.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy moved to her bag and pulled out her own while Willow smiled at her own resourcefulness. It was so familiar, the edges of the used pages carefully turned down in precise triangles. As she flipped through the pages she noted different events carefully color-coded in her own hand-writing: a Physics exam written in royal blue with footnotes, Oz’s departure written in small black letters. She half-listened to Buffy’s monologue as she mused over the filofax’s contents.

“…none of this makes any sense. I mean, where are we? And where are the we that are supposed to be here in these bodies? Shouldn’t we be here in our own future bodies with our own future clothes?” Willow looked up at the Slayer’s off-hand remark. As usual Buffy had stumbled into an important observation. _Yeah, why are we in our old bodies? _“…and where is that demon thingy?” Buffy looked up suddenly. “Maybe it’s at the house!”

Willow forced her mind back to the present. “I don’t know. If it’s not here with us, it’s probably back in our own time.”

“Yeah, but it could be. So we should probably check it out.”

Willow nodded absently. It could be. And Buffy was action girl, she knew that. That Buffy needed to know that she was making physical progress toward her goal at all times. Besides, that would give Willow more time to think, to figure out what was going on. _Because between the physics and the magic, this is going to take me a while._ “Yeah, you should.”

“Oh great,” Buffy said with obvious disgust. “It’s the twenty-seventh right?”

Willow nodded as something in the back of her mind turned over the date. _Three cubed._  With a shrug she turned the final pages to the day. “Yep.”

“All mine says is lunch and patrol.”

Willow smiled at her friend’s typical lack of organization and then looked down at her own sure that it would be well-ordered. And froze. Somewhere far away she could hear the sound of pages turning and the Slayer mumbling, “every page just says ‘lunch’ and ‘patrol’. Why did I even bother?”

But Willow couldn’t even offer her usual ‘uh-huh’ in response. At some point in the moments since turning the page, her brain had stopped working. As if the five words ‘pizza and spells with Tara?’ written in enormous purple letters and outlined in pink were some kind of spell set to take away her thought and voice. She felt her body begin to shake uncontrollably.

“Wil?” Buffy’s voice sounded faint and distant. “Wil what is it?” Closer now, because the Slayer’s voice was rising in volume.

“Buffy,” her voice broke in the middle of the word and she couldn’t seem to say anything else. Like a dream, a nightmare in which her voice was gone. Like the Gentlemen.

“What happens today? Is it Adam?” Buffy had crossed the short distance to kneel next to the redhead. There was a moment during which Willow was sure she would break down completely. That she would fall sobbing to the floor and never rise, but it passed and she made her terrible, familiar way into the numb.

“It’s…it’s Tara.” Her own voice surprised her. It sounded so normal. So controlled. But her face was wet suddenly. From tears? “This is the first time we kiss…tonight. Today.”

“Oh God Wil…”

“I can’t.” Her voice was calm and even, but her hands were now shaking so badly she had to drop the filofax to the floor.  Arms wrapped themselves tightly around her and it took her a few moments to realize that they were her own.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Willow felt a hand on her knee and looked down to see Buffy’s well-manicured fingers gripping her tightly, but she couldn’t feel it. The numbness was working its way out from her heart to her extremities. _Buffy never touches me anymore._

“I can’t.” She repeated calmly and the arms encircling her clutched tighter.

“Wil, you just said we have to…”

She noticed the clock out of the corner of her eye. 2:30.

“It’s too late. She’s at the Retreat already.” The robot voice continued. “When I’m not there, she’ll leave.”

“There’s still time,” buffy said gently.

“Buffy I can-“ and her voice broke again. “She’s gone. She’s gone and I can’t…” She knew she was dangerously close to meltdown, so she closed her eyes and began to take deep breaths, lowering herself into one of Ruth’s meditations.  In. Out. Center. But it wasn’t working. There was no center here and everything was shaking. It’s about controlling that power. Controlling your emotions, she heard Ruth’s calm lecture over the insistent roar in her ears.

“Wil you have to,” she heard Buffy say, then a knock. A soft, tentative knock on the door. _Tara._

And then a long, low sound like an animal crying. Keening. It took her a few moments to realize that the sound was coming from her as she curled into herself on the bed.

“I can’t…” But Buffy was already moving toward the door.

Tara’s gone. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. She’s gone and nothing can bring her…

“Oh, h-hi B-Buffy. Is, um, Willow h-here?” It was unmistakable, the soft musical sound of that voice. And Buffy’s long exhale as she breathed an almost inaudible ‘Tara.’

After a few long moments the Slayer cleared her throat and began speaking in a shaky voice. “Yeah, she is, but…” she didn’t get the chance to finish her warning.

“What’s wrong?” Tara’s voice was simultaneously gentle and protective and Willow felt rather than heard her move toward her in the small room.

I can’t.

“Willow?” Tara was so close now. _If I just open my eyes I’ll see her. It’s not the dream._

And then the gentle pressure of Tara’s hand on her shoulder. Enough pressure to release the sobs she had been holding back with every ounce of her strength. They tore through her now like an earthquake. Like dark magic.

The warm pressure of Tara’s hand began to move in slow circles on her upper back as she cried for what seemed like hours.

“Willow sweetie?”

Open your eyes.

It wasn’t a physical act. She didn’t will her eyes to open, the room simply faded from black to … Tara_._

_This isn’t happening. This is not real._

“Tara?” the word broke apart in her mouth.

Tara’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she looked deep into Willow’s eyes.

“Is she…” she tore her eyes from Willow’s to turn to Buffy, “is she h-hurt?”

Through the blur of tears she watched Buffy shake her head slightly and wipe at her eyes. “No.”

This isn’t happening.

But it was and Tara was searching her face, her blue eyes filling with pain. Willow studied the familiar features, the perfect arch of the eyebrows, the beautifully sculpted planes of her cheeks and forehead. The curve and sigh of her lips. The endless blue of her eyes and that gaze that told Willow she existed. Again.

It was.

“Tara.”

The sobbing stopped and Willow reached slowly through months of grief to bring her fingertips to hover just above her lover’s lips. And stopped.

I can’t touch her.

If I touch her now I’ll never find my way back.

She could feel the heat under the sensitive pads of her fingers. Could feel Tara’s warm breath moving over her own skin. And then they were touching, Tara bridging the distance between them to bring her face into contact with Willow’s hands. The familiar electricity surged through her at the contact and then the calm, Tara fusing disparate elements together like the sun.

Tara’s hands were now holding her face tentatively. Delicate fingers shakily running through red hair.

_She's nervous._

_Because we’ve never done this before. Never been this close._

Willow traced the lines of her love’s face softly, carefully. Drawing them into her memory, trying to erase the pain she saw there.

“Willow what h-happened? Is this about Oz?”

As she shook her head, she felt Tara’s hand gently wipe the tears from her cheek and let out a long breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Willow tilted her head forward until their foreheads were touching. Until she could feel Tara’s breath on her lips.

“I thought I lost you,” she heard herself whisper shakily.

The blonde pulled back slightly to look into Willow’s eyes, the world becoming a sea of Tara blue.

“Me? This is about m-me?” She could see the disbelief there, the insecurity that had always shadowed Tara. She ran a trembling hair through silken blonde hair.

“Everything’s about you.” She let her hand drop to the soft skin of Tara’s neck feeling the strong pulse beating beneath her fingers. Alive. “Everything.” She leaned in to press her cheek against Tara’s whispering low in her ear, “Always.”

And she could hear it somewhere, a small voice telling her that this was wrong. This was not the way it happened. It was wrong and dangerous and she needed to stay in control. But there was the pull and presence of Tara and she would never be strong enough. She was already falling into her orbit.

Willow slid her tear-slicked cheek against Tara’s and felt the blonde whimper in response.

“Willow?” That familiar catch in Tara’s voice that spoke to a place Willow thought she had buried months ago.

“Oh God, Tara…” She lost herself in the overwhelming smell of her, the

impossible feel of her hair against skin and lips. Ran her fingers over the exquisite smooth of her neck.

_This isn’t right. _

_I don’t care._

Willow pulled back slightly to whisper again in Tara’s ear, surrounded by jasmine and sandalwood and everything Tara. The world was liquid again. “I think I’m going to kiss you,” she whispered softly and heard the blonde swallow. “Okay?”

I can’t.

She felt Tara’s almost imperceptible nod and closed her eyes feeling her way back, sliding her cheek against the heat and flush of Tara’s. Until their lips were that close.

This isn’t real.

She was shivering now uncontrollably as she let her hands slide once more to Tara’s neck to feel the jump and pull of her pulse just under the skin.  To reassure herself.

Willow moved forward slowly feeling the heat between them grow exponentially until her lips finally brushed softly against Tara’s and the shaking stopped. Everything stopped. And it was the first kiss. Awkward and tentative and full of promise. Tara’s lips parted slightly and she heard the whimper, felt the sigh as she took the blonde’s full bottom lip between her own and moaned. Slipping one reality over another, tracing memories over in her mind, everything coming back in waves of taste, smell and feeling. But it was never this good, never this…perfect. Because if it had been she would have died in that room with Tara…

Maybe she did.

As the thought crossed her mind, Willow pulled back slowly to open her eyes. To make sure.

Golden and glowing with her mouth slightly open, her eyes closed still lost in the kiss.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Deep blue eyes opened slowly, heavy-lidded as a lop-sided smile formed on perfect lips.

“You are.” Tara stated simply and then lowered her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “I never thought this w-would happen.”

“Neither did I,” Willow said and smiled for the first time, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of gold behind Tara’s ear.

Clear blue eyes found green again and held them steady. “Can we…again?”

Yes. Always. Everything.

Willow leaned in slowly to bring her lips to Tara’s again. _Slow Willow. Slow. This is a first kiss, not a first…everything. And this is shy, sweet Tara. Pre-vixen Tara. So… slow._

She took a deep breath to steady herself, because she wanted everything now. To climb inside Tara and forget it all. Or remember.

But slow.

Bringing her lips to Tara’s in another delicate kiss, she was surprised to feel the blonde’s tongue trace her own in a warm wet line. She opened her mouth and the touch of Tara’s tongue was an incredible relief. It had taken all of her strength to keep her in that other world without Tara, without this. The kiss deepened, and she was winding her fingers through blonde hair, surprised by Tara’s reaction. They had taken things slow in the beginning. Light kisses and hand-holding. Willow wouldn’t even take her shirt off for weeks, embarrassed of her body.

But she could feel the blonde’s desire racing to match her own, building the thing between them with blinding speed. She knew the deep blue of Tara’s eyes with absolute certainty. It meant desire. It was the moon that followed her at night.

And that was a problem because that voice was telling her that it was too fast, too much for the blonde witch.

This isn’t how it happened! Not at all. Slow down.

Willow pulled back carefully gasping for air quickly noticing that Tara’s chest was heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry Tare,” she managed finally. “I don’t want to rush you.”

Tara’s mouth curved immediately into a stunning smile, her eyes dancing over Willow’s with mischief.

“Um, you c-couldn’t…rush me Willow,” and then rolled her eyes in amusement and embarrassment. “K-kind of an impossibility.”

Willow just stared at the blonde in disbelief for long seconds. They had taken it so slow, been so careful not to rush things. And then she understood with blinding clarity. Tara had held all of this back for her.

“You mean?”

“I mean,” Tara affirmed softly and then blushed. “Unless you d-don’t want to.”

This isn’t how it happened. This is wrong.

She paused again, thinking of the future that wasn’t set. The infinite possibilities spilling out in front of her. Then it hit her_, what if this is the last time I ever see her?_

_I can’t._

Everything is new. I’m rewriting the past. With Tara.

Starting right now.

Willow held Tara’s blue eyes with her own and pulled the pink t-shirt over her own head watching carefully as the blonde blinked slowly once and then swallowed.

“Is this r-real because…” Tara began and then stopped as Willow’s hand closed over her own. She moved toward the blonde slowly, raising Tara’s hand and placing it over her own breast as their lips met. They both groaned simultaneously as Tara deepened the kiss turning the room into a furnace. Burning everything away.

Willow brought her hands to the front of Tara’s shirt to find what she had hoped for – buttons. _Thank god!_ Because she couldn’t imagine tearing her mouth away from Tara’s to get the shirt over her head. She fumbled the top two buttons open and finally broke the kiss to bring her mouth to the perfect skin of Tara’s neck and chest. She felt as much as heard the blonde groan again and continued to work the buttons open as she ran her tongue over Tara’s neck to trace the outline of her ear. But Tara stiffened suddenly and Willow froze.

“I’m sorry…too fast?” Willow mumbled, pulling back immediately

“No! N-not too fast…it’s just…” her brow furrowed, two worry lines appearing between her eyes. It should have made Willow panic, but the familiar sight and sound of Tara’s stutter brought tears to her eyes. Everything about Tara was stunning. Even her imperfections. “I have to c-call someone,” and then Tara lowered her head, her hair falling forward. “To cancel s-something.”

A slow smile began to spread over Willow’s face. The date. What was that girl’s name? And she’s going to cancel. Definitely different.

“Okay,” she said softly tracing the line of Tara’s jaw with her fingers.

“I mean, if I’m s-staying,” Tara mumbling.

“Oh, you’re definitely staying. Leaving is just not an option,” she said gently bringing the blonde’s face up to her own pulling her into another long deep kiss. Tara broke away again carefully pushing Willow back.

“I h-have to tell you something.”

“Okay.” Willow said easing back onto her elbows.

“I h-had a d-date tonight,” she began, and lowered her eyes again. Willow knew she should pay careful attention to her words, but she was lost in the sight before her: Tara, golden hair tousled, lips swollen and red, button down open to reveal her breasts still encased in a sheer white bra.

This can’t be real.

“Uh-huh,” Willow mumbled and reached out to trace the side of one of the blonde’s breasts with her hand.

Tara shivered and then put her hand over Willow’s to stop her.

“Willow, I want you to know the truth and how sorry I am…”

The redhead stopped her with a fierce kiss and then pulled back slowly to rest on her elbows again. She watched amused and then aroused as the blonde’s eyes traveled over her chest, her mouth opening slightly.

“You are so not the sorry party here. If I wasn’t such a clueless dummy you wouldn’t have had to make a date with Miss I’m-so-cool-with-my-leather jacket.”

Tara’s mouth began to turn up into another smile as she met green eyes.

“You’re n-not mad?”

“No, but I will definitely be miffed if this phone call takes more than thirty seconds of my Tara time.”

She was rewarded with another brilliant Tara smile.

“Okay,” the blonde said and then quickly rose to her feet, pulling the button-down closed with one hand. Willow watched her walk, watched the familiar sway of her hips under the olive material of her cargo pants. She would have sworn that she could map the curve of those hips from memory, but even her didactic recollection couldn’t do this simple sight justice – Tara walking across a room. A miracle.

The blonde dialed quickly and turned to face her.

“You know her number by heart?” Willow asked playfully.

Tara froze, deep lines forming between her eyes as she held the receiver to her ear.

“No. I m-mean…her r-roommate’s a f-friend of mine,” she should have felt sorry for making Tara stutter, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted everything. If this was going to be their last moment together she wanted every piece of them in the small space of the room.

“Uh-huh,” she said and then moved her hands up to unclasp the bra in the front. Tara licked her lips once before her face flushed scarlet.

“Oh, uh, h-hi S-Sandy,” the blonde closed her eyes and turned her back on Willow. “Is R-Rachel there?”

The redhead rose silently and moved directly behind Tara. She could feel the heat pouring off of her, radiating into the air between them.

It was more and more real every second. Not a miracle anymore, just a fact.

She brought her arms slowly around Tara’s waist to the bare skin of her stomach and heard the blonde’s breathing catch and then quicken. Bringing her lips to one perfect ear, she whispered low, “You know I tried, I really did, but I just couldn’t be that far away from you…”

“Oh, uh, hi R-Rachel, um…”

“One thousand one,” Willow whispered and then kissed the sensitive skin behind Tara’s ear making her jump.

“Ah, um, s-sorry…um, about t-tonight…”

“One thousand five,” she began to carefully pull the button-down off of one shoulder kissing bare skin.

“I, uh…yeah, it’s j-just that…” a loud sigh escaped Tara and she cleared her throat.

“Tell her you’re mine,” she continued to torture the blonde with kisses on her neck and ears. “All mine.”

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have to c-cancel…”

“One thousand nineteen Ms. Maclay. And you’re so gonna have to move that phone to the other ear,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. Tara shifted the receiver from one side to the other and Willow pushed the remaining material aside baring both shoulders. She traced her fingertips gently down the blonde’s sides drawing small circles before bringing them up to cup her breasts. Tara’s breath caught in her throat, but she continued to talk to Rachel as if nothing had happened. Willow smiled into Tara’s neck, licking from her collar to the back of her ear as she pulled the blonde against her, pressing her breasts into her back.

“Oh God!” Tara moaned and then cleared her throat again. “No, I’m o-okay Rachel, I j-just re…remembered something…”

Willow was about to begin a new round of tortures when she caught sight of their reflection in the window. The window. Tara. Every muscle in her body locked with the terror of it. She felt the grief and panic move through her again in an agonizing wave, but she held it down. This was not about grief. This woman in her arms was bright and new and now. And nothing mattered but that. Not the future. Not the past.

This is happening.

Nothing but Tara in a bra, a sexy smile on her lips as she looked down at the redhead’s hands and then her own smiling gently into one pale shoulder. It was so familiar the two of them like this. She could never resist holding the blonde from behind whether she was at the mirror or washing dishes – for the redhead it was simply irresistable. It had become one of their most familiar private jokes, but this Tara didn’t know it yet.

This Tara.

And then blue eyes met green, her smile fading as they stared at each other in the glass.

“Tar…” all of the teasing was gone, replaced in one moment by desperate need and Tara somehow seemed to understand, pressing herself back against Willow and reaching behind to grab one hip with her free hand.

“Rachel I’ve really got to go,” Willow could still hear the other girl talking as the blonde hung up the phone. Tara held her eyes in the glass for long moments bringing her hands to cover the redhead’s where they rested over her breasts and then slowly turned in her arms.  Willow worried briefly that they would return to the gentle teasing, that Tara would become shy. Would want to take things slow.

And then she felt Tara’s hands sliding tentatively over her breasts and gasped.

“So, I’m yours?” she asked and Willow nodded. “So, that means…mine?” the blonde demanded studying her hands as they moved over the flushed skin of the redhead’s chest finally bringing her mouth to Willow’s in a breath-taking kiss.

No slow.

“Yours. Forever,” she choked between kisses and felt the tears threatening again as she unclasped Tara’s bra running her hands over the familiar landscape, feeling the nipples harden against her palms.

She let her hands drop to the waistband of the cargo pants and began to unbutton them.

“Is this okay?” she asked gasping for air and Tara nodded wildly.

“Skirt?” Tara asked and then dropped her head to kiss Willow’s neck, her mouth open and hot on her collarbone.

“Oh God! Zipper… in the back.”

As she freed the final button and pushed the material down over Tara’s hips warm hands circled her waist and then the familiar sound of a zipper.

Tara’s mouth moved over her neck back to her mouth before pulling back abruptly.

“Willow I can’t stand up…” she trailed off breathless.

“Bed. Now.” Willow gasped and stepped out of her skirt and shoes to sit on the side of the bed.

Tara was still struggling gracefully with her pants and sneakers and Willow felt a steady calm descend on her as she studied her. Followed the sinuous curve and line of her. _This is happening. This is real._

And Tara was standing before her, shy again, covering herself with her arms.

“Come here sexy,”  Willow said without thinking.

_Not something freshman Willow would say. Definitely not…_

But Tara was smiling again and moving toward her. Willow guided her down to sit beside her.

“I’m not s-sexy,” Tara began, her eyes falling again to the floor.

“See now your gonna make me think I’m doing something wrong…” she traced the blonde’s perfect nose and then turned her head gently to face her. “’Cause if I was doing this right,” she paused to kiss the blonde gently, “you’d know that you’re the sexiest woman on earth.” She punctuated her statement with a long, slow kiss, moaning loudly as Tara’s hands found their way to the back of her head pulling her deeper in.

“You’re definitely doing this right,” the blonde managed between kisses and then pulled back to study Willow’s face. “Am…am I? ‘Cause you know I’ve never…”

“Better than right.” Willow soothed. “Definitely righter.” And kissed her bare shoulder. “Rightest even.”

“But I think it could be righter, you know, if we were, uh, actually on the bed,” Tara offered with a mischievous smile.

Oh my God. Sexy is definitely not a big enough word for Tara. It never was.

Somehow they made their way up the bed, falling together in a tangle of limbs and bare skin and Tara was over her, studying Willow’s face. Her hair fell in a golden curtain around them, filtering the light to a soft glow and the redhead felt tears spring to her eyes again.

“I’m afraid I’m too heavy…”

Willow smiled up at her, pulling her down gently into a tight embrace. “You’re not…trust me.”

“I do.” Tara smiled that beautiful lopsided smile and finally lowered herself onto the redhead’s slim frame, bare skin sliding over bare skin everywhere.

“Tar!” The word was torn out of Willow like a sob as she brought her mouth up to meet the blonde’s in an end-of-the-world kiss.

It was never like this.

There was no line between them anymore, mouths wide open, hips beginning a slow rock in that language that Willow’s body knew by heart.

“These have to go,” she mumbled and pulled at the thin strip of fabric on Tara’s hip. The only thing left between them.

“So do these,” the blonde responded tugging at Willow’s panties.

The redhead nodded once and shivered as Tara pulled the fabric slowly down her legs and finally let them drop to the floor. Willow sat up slowly and pushed the blonde down to the bed, making her way down that perfect body with hands and mouths, stripping away the last barrier between them.

She knew she should slow down, should focus on committing every moment, every taste and smell to memory, to make it real, but she couldn’t. Because this was the now finally and their love was a verb again, not a noun. There was no memory to draw from, no pattern of love-making to fall into. It was all new and her world had focused down to the space beneath her hands and mouth. Moment to moment as her open mouth moved over a perfect knee, the soft skin of Tara’s stomach, the arch and peak of perfect breasts. She felt it all at once, the everything of Tara, the taste, sound, smell and sight of her as if she had developed a new and separate sense just for this.

And it told her that the exquisite tension that she was holding onto, carefully drawing out was building beyond them. The room was no longer large enough to contain their want. And the ache was going to break her. And Tara. She could hear it in the blonde’s breath, the sobbing way she pulled Willow against her body and mouth. Desperate.

This is how it happened.

Hands between thighs, wet and heat and Tara. The slow, impossible pressure and no release. Desperately holding onto this thing between them that had everything and nothing to do with magic. But it wasn’t hers. It was theirs. Hers and Tara’s. And its own. And she couldn’t control it.

Willow knew in that moment with absolute certainty that it wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. It was real. Because nothing, no one on earth or any other possible future or past could make her feel like this. Nothing and no one but Tara.

Their eyes met, black with desire and she felt with that other sense as everything in Tara tensed and then released, screaming Willow’s name.

Willow pulled back once more to study the lines of the face beneath her, the deep blue eyes holding her safe.

And finally…let go.


	4. Chapter 4

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Buffy held her breath as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. Watched the two women connect in that way that made everything around them seem insignificant. Unreal. Including herself. And it was, she realized for the first time, everything in the universe was insignificant in the face of a moment like this. Slaying, demons, death. Everything. And all of Tara and Willow’s moments had been like this. Before.

A tear rolled down one cheek, surprising the her.

_Why didn’t I see this before?_

_Because you didn’t want to._

Willow slid one cheek along Tara’s in a move that was slow and sensual and Buffy inhaled sharply.

_And you shouldn’t be seeing this now. Hello, hot and heavy lesbian sex scene is definitely in the making and you’re still in the room!_

Buffy quietly closed the door to their dorm room and stood in the hall unsure of what to do. Should she wait to make sure that Willow was alright? Make sure that in a fit of grief and rage she didn’t go black magic.

An image of Willow wrapped in on herself in grief slipped into her mind and she realized with a wave of guilt that she had never seen her best friend cry for Tara. The redhead hadn’t even mentioned her lost love since her return. Not once. They had all carefully stepped around the issue, assuring themselves that it was best for Willow. That she had moved on with the help of whatever counseling she had received in England, but Buffy saw now with terrible clarity that she had been wrong. They all had. Willow would never move beyond Tara.

_And I didn’t do anything for her. Willow is my best friend…what am I saying? She’s more than that, she’s like my soul mate… in a totally platonic, never-gonna-have-sex kinda way…and I couldn’t even let her cry._

Because that was the Scooby way. Somehow, at some point a rule had been written that they would all suffer in silence. And they had. Making their way through terrible loss and grief and because there were more important things to worry about. And there was always something. New apocalypses, new evil. Always something more important and they were all paying for it.

_Emotionally challenged_, she thought with a sudden smile. Dawn had accused her of being emotionally retarded a month after Tara’s death because she hadn’t cried at the funeral. She hadn’t cried for Tara at all. The teenager was right…as usual. And she was all alone in the future somewhere. Alone with Faith and that device.

The unmistakable sounds of Tara and Willow’s love-making finally filtered through her senses. She felt a deep flush across her cheeks and laughed at her own discomfort. _Why does this make me all uncomfortable? Yep, emotionally retarded. That’s me._

With a sigh she pulled on her jacket and quietly locked the door. There was certainly no reason for her to stay. Now that it was the two of them again. They were all they had ever needed.

_She wiped the tears roughly from her face._

Okay, what’s the plan?  What am I doing? Oh yeah. Demon device. Checking the house for it.

Another loud moan from inside and her stomach turned over uncomfortably.

****

 

“Buffy! I’m home!” Dawn slammed the door behind her and dropped her backpack heavily onto the floor.

“Hello?” she yelled again hopefully. Dawn didn’t have to explore to know that the house was empty. The sound of it, the terrible emptiness of being alone in this house was so familiar, she knew its awful echoes by heart.

“Willow?” she asked quietly, tentatively and was thankful when there was no reply. She hadn’t told anyone, but she was still scared of the redhead and hated to be left alone with her. There was so much they couldn’t say, so many things that had to be unsaid when they spoke.

“Great. I don’t know why I bother being on time ever,” she muttered angrily and made her way up the well-worn staircase. “I could have stayed and had cool eggs with Rain, but no.” That was so like Buffy. Everyone had to work on her schedule. Everyone else had to do what she wanted, when she wanted it. But if she was late and ruined everyone else’s plans that was okay.

“Because Buffy’s so much more important than me or anyone else.”

Dawn paused as she rounded the corner and found herself in front of Tara’s photo. Looking around guiltily, she brought her fingers to her lips and touched them to the glass carefully. “Sorry I thought that about Willow, Tara, I just…well, you know…” she trailed off unsure of how to finish the statement and knowing that she didn’t have to. Tara had always known.

With another long sigh she made her way down the hall, stopping to check Buffy’s room. The bed was made, the room was tidy and clean. No Buffy. And no clues as to where she was or when she’d be back. Nothing new.

“Guess I should’ve checked the fridge,” she mumbled and headed back into the hallway toward the stairs, but something stopped her. Movement out of the corner of her eye. Movement where it shouldn’t be in that room at the end of the hall that had been her mother’s and then Tara’s and Willow’s and now, finally was just a guestroom. The guestroom that Willow slept in. The room she hadn’t been in since that day she had spent with Tara’s body.

Okay, think like a Slayer. What would Buffy do? She’d tell you to get your ass out of the house…so, what would Faith do?

Dawn smiled and wiped her palms on her jeans, preparing herself for the walk down the hall. Movement. But there was no one in the house and no sound. The teenager’s skin felt electric, the hair on the back of her neck standing up uncomfortably. And she knew she should leave, should find her sister and let the Slayer investigate, but she didn’t. She looked once to the smiling photo of Tara and took a deep breath to steady herself before walking quietly toward that room.

It seemed to take forever to reach that dark room. The shades were still drawn, leaving it in shadow, but there seemed to be something moving inside. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and crept forward. The first thing she saw was the laptop. The screen was cracked and flickering an eerie green. Then the burn marks and the glass. Black soot scored the walls in large areas and broken glass from the window reflected back the laptop’s flicker. And there was a shimmer in the air, like light projected without a screen. She thought she saw a familiar silhouette and blonde hair out of the corner of her eye.

“Tara?”  And she could swear she smelled it – jasmine.

But when she turned to look there was nothing. She stepped carefully into the room knowing that she shouldn’t. Knowing with every cell in her body that something had happened here. Something powerful and dangerous. But if Tara was here it couldn’t be bad, right?

_Think Tara thoughts.  Tara will protect me. Tara will protect me…_

Then she saw it and her stomach turned over – the shattered window. The bullet that had ended everything and taken Tara and Willow away from her. And a silver object on the floor that didn’t belong, that felt…wrong.

 “Oh God, oh God,” she brought a hand to her mouth to stop herself, but she couldn’t because she knew that Buffy was gone. There was magic in this room. Magic and Willow. And Buffy would never have allowed that to happen. 

“No,” She whispered, but it was drowned out by a wail in the distance. A long, low ghostly scream of anguish that she knew without thinking was Willow.

_Buffy’s gone. Willow went dark magic and took her with her. And the bullet…_

_ I’m alone. I’m all alone. Again._

“No!” the word was torn out of her in an anguished scream.

 She felt as much as heard the house shake under the impact of something powerful, but she couldn’t move. Her eyes traveled over the ruined room searching for evidence to verify what she already knew. _Buffy’s gone._ 

“I’m alone, I’m alone…” she muttered softly.

“Dawn!” The voice was familiar and loud as it echoed through the house. It was big and insistent and real, not the ghostly wails that reverberated around her in the small space of that room.

“Dawn, what the fuck happened?” The voice was now right behind her, but she couldn’t move. Then she felt the warm weight of a hand on her shoulder gently turning her. “Where’s Buffy?” 

The Slayer pushed pass her into the room, stake in hand and Dawn studied her back as she assessed the danger, and felt a choking sob of relief work its way into her throat. Because it was so familiar. The set of her shoulders and her fighting posture. It was familiar and real and she was there with Dawn.

“Faith?”  The teenager finally croaked. The Slayer turned to her, her face full of concern.

“Are you okay?” Faith moved toward her and Dawn watched her eyes as they checked for any sign of injury. And she knew she shouldn’t break, knew she should be tough and strong like the Dark Slayer, but she couldn’t. Not now. So she threw her arms around her and cried into the rough leather jacket. They stood that way for several moments in an awkward embrace, Faith tense in her arms. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, she felt the Slayer’s arms close around her stiffly.

“It’s okay D, it’s okay…” the Slayer whispered and patted her back clumsily. “We’ll find her. I promise.”

“I’m alone,” she cried into Faith’s shoulder. “They’re gone and I’m alone again,” she continued, her voice rapidly disintegrating into hysterical tears.

Faith pulled back slowly and held her face between two strong callused hands.

“No you’re not.” She wiped the tears carefully from the teenager’s face, her jaw clenched tight as she stared with barely restrained fury into Dawn’s eyes. “You’re not fucking alone!” The Slayer closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her movements immediately reminding Dawn of Tara’s meditation techniques. And then dark eyes flashed at her familiar and wild. “I’m not leaving you. Okay?”

And Dawn knew that she could trust the Dark Slayer, despite everything she had heard, all the looks and whispered accusations. She knew it in the way she knew that Tara was still with her. The way she knew without a doubt that Willow and Buffy were gone.

“Okay.”

 

****

 

Willow studied Tara’s face as her fingers trailed lightly over soft skin. She hadn’t been able to look away once, needing to reassure herself with every moment that Tara was still there. With her. Real and solid. A shy smile crossing perfect lips as her breathing finally slowed.

“Um, wow, that was…” the blonde trailed off with a blush.

“Yeah, it was. Definitely.” Willow smiled and lowered her eyes to study her hand’s lazy progress over the pale skin of Tara’s chest, her fingers finding a familiar bump on the collarbone. She winced at the memory of Tara’s embarrassed and painful explanation. Her father had broken it in high school. A bad break that was never set properly. The memory brought a rush of protective anger and Willow took a deep breath to control the fury that threatened.

“Are you okay?” Tara’s warm fingers on her cheek gently brought Willow’s attention back to deep blue eyes. The redhead felt a slight pull, like magic, but chose to ignore it dropping her head to place a light kiss on the old injury.

_Probably just residual effects from the spell…_

“I have never been more okay.” Willow leaned in and brought her lips to Tara’s with a sigh. The blonde’s hand moved to the back of her head, fingers entwined in red hair and Willow moaned as she was pulled into a deeper kiss.

_Please let this be real. Let me stay here forever…I give it all up. Everything for this._

“Ever.”  She whispered as she moved to hover over the blonde, gasping as strong hands pulled her down against bare skin everywhere. Another long sensual kiss evolved quickly into something desperate. “Oh, God Tara!” the redhead moaned as she slid her thigh between the blonde’s legs.

It wasn’t like this…even the first time we made love it was never like this.

They had been so cautious, so careful with each other. Slow and tentative and shy. That Willow would have never believed Tara wanted her like that. That she wanted Tara like this. But this was wild and unrestrained, Tara pulling her against her, sliding a thigh between her legs, mouths wide open as if they were trying to consume each other. It was like the night before…before. When Tara had come to her room and the world was a poem again, not a sentence.  For a moment.

“Wil?” the blonde pushed Willow back gently, gasping for air.

“Oh, sorry. I’m going too fast aren’t I?” the redhead began, pulling away slowly.

Tara gripped her firmly with hands and thighs, a mischievous smile playing over her lips. “No. Imp-possibility remember?” And pulled Willow in for a long slow kiss. “But Buffy…”

_Oh yeah. Buffy._

The Slayer was sure to return to the dorm room after her ‘mission’.

And then she’s gonna want to talk about the device. Full research mode. She’s going to want you to find answers and you want…

She let her eyes drift back down to the blonde’s beautiful face beneath her. Eyes black with desire, lips red and swollen from kissing, breathing hard as she studied the redhead carefully. And there was the unbearable ache between her own legs.

You want to have hot sweaty sex with Tara. Forever.

 “You are so beautiful,” Willow murmured and began to slowly trace a perfect breast.

“M-maybe we should g-go to my room.”

_Yes, we should go to Tara’s room. Get control of yourself and go to Tara’s…_

Willow let her eyes drift down to the blonde’s chest and knew there was no way she could leave this room, this miraculous place she had discovered again with Tara. Not yet. She dropped her head and brought her mouth slowly to cover one breast.

Tara arched up into her. “Willow!” And it all slipped away again with that one word. On those lips. Sending a shudder and wet jolt through her that was stronger than any magic. Bigger than time.

“Not yet.”

 

****

Buffy walked quickly through campus toward home, her eyes adjusting quickly to the rapid onset of night. It was that moment between when the world seemed to pause before taking that last step into dark.

And to the Slayer inside it was something else. It was the line between the two pieces of herself. She felt it every night, the quickening of her pulse, her hearing and sight growing more acute, her muscles twitching with desire, skin humming with the electric thrill of aggression. The outlines of things growing more distinct as the predator in her blood began to wake. Like a vampire ready to hunt in the night. And that was the dark secret she had kept for so long. This thing she had known from the beginning and hidden even from herself for so long. That the Slayer was a demon made to fight demons. They talked about the Chosen One and a higher purpose, but she was created to hunt and kill in a centuries-old fight to the death. They could sugar coat it with lofty titles and prophecies, but it was still violence and naked aggression.

She had kept that secret for so long. Until Faith.

Faith who was now out of jail and alone with her sister in some apocalyptic future.

_And she knows all about the demon,_ she thought with a scowl. Faith had had no problem getting in touch with her inner demon, had understood it and embraced it while Buffy had taken the high road burying it under perkiness and comic relief.

Until she had found release in death. She was finally free from the demon and they brought her back.

Willow brought me back. But not Tara….

She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. They had never actually discussed the details of that day. What had happened in that room to bring out the demon in her best friend. Oh God, did Willow use up all of her resurrect-y magic on me? Maybe Tara would still be here if Willow didn’t…

The sound of laughter brought her back to the present. Her ears picking out the familiar masculine voice from the crowd. Riley.

Before she could make an escape, he was running toward her, calling her name with that wide, trusting smile.  She felt a familiar smile crowd her face at the sight of him. Riley had been so easy and comfortable. And he had loved her.

But you can’t give him what he needs right now. He’s looking for smitten co-ed Buffy and After Spike and Glory and everything. I just can’t.  And he would never understand.

_So keep it short and sweet. You’re on a mission…_

And then it hit her as her smile faded, _you never could give him what he needed._

She was swept into a warm kiss, strong arms circling her waist. “Are we still on for later?” His face was split by a love-struck grin. It was so hard for her to believe that anyone had ever loved her like this. Unconditionally. It was so tempting to fall back into old behaviors. So easy to convince herself that she was that shiny girl.

“For?” she winced.

He looked around briefly, “For Patrol later. You know, with the guys.”

Buffy nodded absently and tried to remember the specific details of the night. Unlike Willow she had no carefully organized filofax, no significant emotional landmarks. But ‘the guys’ had to mean the Initiative…

“Sorry, but I’ve got this thing…at home that I have to do. You know, important family-type… stuff. Just sorta came up.” She shrugged and put on her cheeriest smile.

“Oh, your Mom still giving you a guilt trip about not visiting?”

“What?” She looked up into his broad smile and watched fascinated as his mouth moved, but there was no sound.

_She’s alive. Here._

Somehow, this simple fact had gotten lost in the dorm room. The Slayer had been so caught up in normal Scooby procedures and Willow so focused on Tara that her mother had slipped quietly through unnoticed.

She pulled away from Riley abruptly, trying to run before the tears started. “I’ve got to go…sorry.” And then a firm grip on her arm stopping her.

“But I thought…I mean this maneuver’s been planned for…” she looked down at the hand on her arm and felt the two parts of herself separate. That girl that she had been who could comfort and reassure him had disappeared long ago, killed in self defense.

“Look, I’m sorry about your maneuvers or whatever, but I’ve got to go,” she turned again, but he still held her arm.

“Are you okay? Maybe I should go with….”

It took all of her strength to keep from breaking the hand that held her. The hand that kept her from her mother. From home. “Riley please…I really need ...”

“To go,” he finished for her, hurt and frustration apparent in his voice. “Yeah, I got that part.”

She wanted to scream at him and cry and break down in his arms and tell him everything,

_My mother is alive_

_My mom is in our house now. And I’m here and…_

_She’s alive._

 

But instead she took a deep breath. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

 And she was gone in a blur, running toward home.

 

 

****

 

Dawn took a deep breath and wiped the tears roughly from her eyes.

_It’s going to be okay. They’re just gone. Not dead. You can get them back. What would Buffy do?_

She looked up to find Faith’s dark eyes studying her carefully.

Buffy would kick Faith’s ass …even if it wasn’t her fault. Dawn laughed out loud at the image and the Dark Slayer’s angry features dissolved into a confused smirk. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” The teenager shook her head, but found that she couldn’t stop laughing.

“You better tell me,” Faith said in her most threatening voice which only made Dawn laugh harder.

“I was just thinking about what Buffy would do…” she trailed off unable to explain. Because Faith was sure to take it the wrong way. Nothing that happened between the two Slayers ever seemed to go the right way.

And she had never understood it. Why her sister hated Faith so much. Faith was funny and smart and…totally cool! Like a rockstar. And yeah, she acted all tough with the cursing and the head-bobbing stuff, but she was so obvious. It was all right there with Faith. Right on the surface. Unlike Buffy with all her silent gloominess. Maybe that’s why Buffy and the Scoobies couldn’t see it. Because it was obvious.

And Faith doesn’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.

“She’d probably blame it on me and try to kick my ass,” the Dark Slayer muttered angrily and crossed her arms.

“See! That’s exactly what I was thinking. Great minds do think alike.”  Which brought a slow, steady smile to the Slayer’s face.

The ghostly sound of a gunshot and glass shattering brought them both back to the grim reality of the bedroom. Faith’s eyes again traveled over the room’s contents, finally landing on the silver object in the middle of the floor. Dawn watched the Dark Slayer’s jaw clench as she bent to pick it up.

“B…was supposed to be mine… so fucking hard-headed,” she could barely hear the Slayer muttering under her breath.

“What is it?” Dawn leaned over a leather-clad shoulder. The scary metal thing actually just looked like a little sculpture. Cute. With stars on the top.

“Uh, I don’t know.” The Slayer turned to face her, holding the object between them. “Cordy saw it in a vision.” Faith paused and met Dawn’s eyes for a moment as if she was making a decision and then shrugged. “B and Red are supposed to end the world with it or something.”

“So why …I mean, is that why you’re here? You know ‘cause I’m thinking it’s probably better if you stay, like, a hundred miles away from my sister.” And that brought another smile to the Slayer’s face.

“Yeah, something like that. I’m supposed to stop it,” she looked around the ruined room with a grimace. “So, so far I’m 0 for 2.”

Another ghostly Willow-wail echoed through the room and Dawn shivered.

 _Tara and Willow._

_Tara was shot. In this room._

She shuddered again.

“Is that Red?” The Slayer asked cocking her head to the left, like a dog listening to something beyond human hearing.

“This is the room where Tara was shot,” she answered simply.

Deep furrows appeared on Faith’s forehead. “Red’s girl?”

 

_And mine. And Buffy’s. _

_Not just Willow’s._

Tara was everyone’s girl.

_And they stole her from the world. From us._

She wanted to explain it all to Faith, but found that she couldn’t. She was holding back too much. Fear, grief, anger. If she let go of any piece of it right now, the rest would surely come pouring out. And they had more important things to worry about. End of the world things. And no Buffy to help. And she didn’t want to be that crying helpless girl. She wanted to be tough. Like a Slayer.

“Yeah. Can we get out of here?” Faith just nodded.

Dawn walked through the doorway and felt the chill lift, the eerie sounds dying as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

“What the fuck?”

She turned to find the Faith staring down at her empty hands.

“What?”

Faith looked down at the floor. “It’s gone. Like, totally, fucking poof, just gone out of my hands.” They both turned frantically back to the room to find the silver object lying where they had found it with the broken glass and debris.

Faith scowled and rested her hands on her hips. “Okay, well, that’s not going anywhere obviously. I’m thinking we are gonna need a witch and since Red’s gone…”

Dawn turned automatically to find Tara’s smiling face on the wall. Tara had taught her a few spells and incantations, but she had been adamant about Dawn staying away from big magicks. No matter how great the need.

But there was no one else.

 

“What about Giles?” Faith asked.

The teenager turned back. “Um, he’s in England, so, like, factor in 24 hours of travel time at least if we can even get a hold of him…”

“Well, I could call Angel, but….”

“Hey! There’s Anya. She’s a witch. I mean, she was a witch.”

Faith frowned. “Anya? The ex-vengeance demon?”

“Well, yeah, but technically she’s an ex-ex-vengeance demon now since Xander dumped her at the altar. But she’s cool and all with the demon knowledge you know, except when she’s eviscerating people’s boyfriends and…” Faith was shaking her head with a smile. “What?”

“I forgot how much you people talk! Jesus, between you, B and Red…” the dark Slayer rolled her eyes and began to walk toward the stairs. This was the Faith Dawn loved. Annoying, smartass, tough softie Faith. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to hit her or hug her.

_But hugging Faith could be dangerous. And I’ve gotten away with one in a lifetime already so…_

She opted for a playful punch to the arm that had no effect whatsoever on the rock-solid Slayer but made her feel better, “Look, just because I’m not all monosyllabic five by five cavewoman like you…”

“Whatever,” Faith rolled her eyes and hopped playfully down the stairs. “Can we go find this Anya chick before you talk me back into a coma.

“Whatever,” Dawn mocked her and stopped dead in the hallway. The door had literally been ripped from its hinges and Faith was now propping it precariously back in place.

“What? You were screaming,” Faith said with a shrug. Dawn tried to suppress the enormous grin but couldn’t. She followed Faith through the ruined doorframe into a beautiful end-of-the-world Sunnydale day.

 


	5. Chapter 5

"And why exactly should I help you?" the Vengeance Demon paused, her eyes shifting from Dawn to the figure of Faith behind her. She felt the Slayer stiffen, heard the unmistakable sound of leather creaking as arms crossed in growing exasperation. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Faith’s legendary impatience and temper could be downright dangerous in a situation like this. "Plus, Willow’s possibly gone all dark magic," Anya rolled her eyes for emphasis, "and there’s no way I’m getting involved with that again." She motioned dramatically to the disaster of her store. The walls and windows were blackened with soot and scored by the intense heat and violence of Willow’s agony. An entire section of the ceiling lay in an enormous pile in the center of the room. The milky plastic of a makeshift tarp was the only barrier between the interior and exterior worlds of the store.

"We’ll help you fix up the shop," Dawn offered with a weak smile and picked up a broom, but as she began to sweep at the black dust on the floor it became clear quickly that there was no end to it. There was no floor any longer, just ash and soot.

"Oh please. You with your microscopic teenage attention span and kleptomaniac tendencies," she rambled angrily and then turned on Faith, "and you, a murderer slash Slayer which, by the way, is so redundant. I mean, come on. You and Buffy are Slayers. You slay things. Look it up!" she said and finally threw up her hands in disgust.

Faith inhaled sharply behind her and Dawn began to panic. This was it. Faith was going to go all Rogue Slayer and attack Anya and they would never get Buffy and Willow back.

"But…" she began, only to be cut off by the totally incongruous sound of laughter behind her. She turned to find Faith openly appraising the vengeance demon, a sultry smile forming on her lips.

"I like her," Faith said with a smirk and Dawn rolled her eyes in disgust. What was it with these people? All the adults in her life were like these total freaks of nature when it came to the rules of attraction. Why would Faith who could have, like, anyone want a nasty old demon? Then again, Buffy had that whole Spike issue. Maybe it was a Slayer thing. And if Faith had seen Anya all veiny and wrinkled she was sure the dark Slayer wouldn’t be looking at her in that way that was making her all uncomfortable. And angry.

"What?" the teenager turned on the Slayer in hurt shock. And she wasn’t even sure why. Just that this was impossible. "Nobody likes Anya! I mean, except Xander and he’s…"

"Hello! Standing right here!," Anya interjected. "And that’s just not true! I have many friends, like…" She stumbled for a moment and then smiled brightly, "Like Tara! Tara was my friend. And not in a lesbian, womyn with a ‘y’ love kind of way, so there. You’re wrong as usual…" she trailed off when she saw the look of pain that the blonde’s name brought to Dawn’s face. "And see, now you’ve made me say her name and everyone’s going to be all sad."

"Not me," Faith shrugged and slipped her hands in her pockets. "Didn’t know the girl." And then she scowled as if she was unhappy with the words.

"Well, then you’re lucky," Anya said with a frown, crossing her arms in front of her. It took a moment for the callous words to sink in and Dawn felt the rage swell within her. Why hadn’t she seen it earlier? Anya had never really stopped being a vengeance demon. She never really cared about anything, but money and sex.

"’Cause you don’t have to miss her." Which pulled all of the air out of the room, all of her rage turning to grief in a moment.

The teenager looked up to find the Vengeance Demon standing under the flapping tarp looking small and sad. And alone. Her eyes wet with tears as she surveyed the devastation of the store. The results of Tara’s murder.

Faith finally broke the silence, clearing her throat. "Sorry to interrupt here, but we’re kind of on the clock … so are you up for this or should we start looking for another witch without the, you know, the whole demon issue?"

"It is not a demon issue!" Anya’s forehead furrowed in contempt as she seemed to reach a decision she wasn’t entirely happy with. "Stupid humans," she muttered. "Fine. But I’m just going to look. That’s it. No promises." Dawn watched Faith nod her assent. "And if Willow’s there and her eyes look even slightly dark I don’t know any of you. Got it?’

Dawn mimicked the dark Slayer, silently nodding her agreement. "Thanks Anya…"

"Don’t." the Vengeance Demon held a hand up firmly to stop the teenager. "I’m not doing this for you. So don’t thank me." Anya’s eyes grew distant as she prepared herself to orb.

""Then who are you…" the teenager asked too late. In a flash of silver light the vengeance demon was gone. "…doing it for?" she finished in a whisper.

****

"Oh. Hey! Pajama Guy at three o’clock," Willow used her free hand to point excitedly at a pajama-clad student walking toward them in a crowd of friends, her other hand swinging confidently in the blonde’s warm grasp. "So, do you think he planned the whole pajama thing? Or was it accidental? You know, he woke up one day and didn’t have time to dress for class, but he looked down and was all like, ‘’hey, look at those! They’re clothes-like’ so he just kinda went with it…" she trailed off when a glance at Tara revealed a highly amused grin.

_She’s laughing at me,_ she thought with pleasure. _I caused a Tara smile. A Tara grin even. Like the old Willow…_

"What?" The redhead quizzed, pulling them to a stop in the middle of the Quad under the soft golden glow of a path light. The blonde hid behind her hair and Willow felt the universe shift, memories of this different Tara sliding in layers over that Tara who was gone.

"Nothing. It’s just," blue eyes looked up through heavy lids to meet the redhead’s green. "It’s been a wh-while since, uh, Willowbabble." And she looked down again.

"Well, I kinda had better things to do with my mouth," the redhead said and was rewarded with an enormous blushing smile. She felt a soft hand on her cheek and the blonde began to lean in, but then stopped abruptly when the sound of approaching students reached them. Blue eyes glanced from the raucous laughter of the students back to Willow, doubt clouding perfect pale features.

_She thinks I’m embarrassed. And I would have been. Then. But now…_

In one sure motion, she pulled Tara into a fierce kiss that the blonde quickly deepened, her hand finding the back of Willow’s head pulling her in. The sound of muffled laughter continued around them as the crowd passed, a girl’s confident voice finally sounded beside them.

"You go girls!"

Willow pulled back laughing, returning the anonymous girl’s wide smile for a moment. Turning back to Tara she found an astonished smile as the blonde studied her. Then it faded slightly, blue eyes travelling to the space around Willow, to the air between them.

_She’s reading me. She knows. She sees it now._

Her own smile fading, Willow reached out to touch Tara’s face afraid that this was the moment The moment she would lose her again. She felt the slight pull again at the edge of everything. There had always been magic with Tara, but this was different. it wasn’t residual effects of the spell. It was the spell. It was magic, hard and cold and tearing at her with its deadly fingers.

_I can’t…_

She reached down into herself and said the words that would center everything. Would protect herself and Tara from the world. A bubble of them.

"Willow?" the blonde said her name gently and she felt warm hands caress her face. Felt the slow perfect spell of her name on Tara’s lips that quirked slowly into a smile. "How did you know about ‘’Miss I'm-so cool-in-my-leather-jacket’?"

_Tara sees it all. She always did._

It started as a smile on Willow’s face, sheer delight in the power and insight of her lover. But it quickly faded. How could she tell her?

"Tara…I…" she faltered and looked at the ground. It was too much. This Tara didn’t know the deceitful Willow and she didn’t want to introduce her to that person. Ever. It should all be brand new. But how to tell her? She looked back to Tara for an answer.

Blue eyes held her steady and she felt the magic and the doubt recede. "You know you c-c-can tell me… anything."

Tears sprang to Willow’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. She would not allow anything to ruin this stolen time with Tara. Not grief. Not magic. Nothing.

"I know. And I will." She choked back a sob and brought her lips to the blonde’s to feel the fact of her warm breath on her. "Tell you. Everything I can." Tara sighed against her. "Okay?"

And she was pulled into a fierce kiss that made words unnecessary. This was their language. The only one they had ever really needed. If she had only listened…

*****

"Mom?"

Buffy stood blinking in the front hallway, the door wide open behind her. It had taken her ten minutes to find the courage to cross that threshold. During her wild run over, she had imagined kicking the door down, breaking the windows to get in, but when faced with the familiar car in the driveway, the yellow kitchen light and blue flicker of her mother’s nightly news ritual she found herself immobilized. Unsure for the first time in months.

"Mommy?" she repeated, expecting it to explode in an ear-splitting scream, but it came out as a soft question. Almost a whisper.

Her eyes wandered over the familiar photos and paintings that lined the hallways. Smiling photographs of her mother and herself. Aunts and uncles. No photos of her future family -- Tara and Willow. And no Dawn. Which was strangely unnerving. It was obvious suddenly that her sister had been inserted not only into their memories, but into the photographic evidence of their lives. Of course, she knew that there was no Dawn in this present, but she couldn’t seem to bring her mind to accept that fact, because Dawn had always been her sister. Always would be. And she had died to give her a chance to find her future…

"Buffy?" And there she was suddenly. Living, breathing. Mom. A smile of delighted surprise crossing her features as she stood staring at her daughter from the living room.

And for once there were no second thoughts, no doubts, she was just suddenly in her mother’s arms again, inhaling the warm, comfortable, unmistakable scent of safety. Of Home.

"Mom!" she cried and laughed into a silk-covered shoulder and felt her mother’s arms slip around her. She knew she was holding on too tightly, that her Slayer strength could hurt her all-too human mother, but she couldn’t help herself. Hanging on for dear life. And that was something else familiar. That no matter how hard she held her mother, it was never too much. Mom magic, she decided choking on another sob. She felt those wonderfully strong arms pull back gently and brush the hair and tears from her face.

"Buffy. What happened? Are you okay?" Her mother’s eyes studied her intently, looking for signs of injury and Buffy laughed through another sob. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah. No. I mean I just… I missed you," she sniffed and felt an enormous smile break over her face. It was such an unfamiliar feeling after months of sadness and depression. A smile. So strange that something so simple had become so elusive. And dangerous.

But the lines of her mother’s face, that crooked smile full of concern. The tiny lines around her eyes. Those were familiar. And so fragile.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" her mother’s gaze deepened as if she was looking straight through her daughter.

"Yeah…just had a rough day…or two. Maybe even three."

"Well, I’m just making dinner," she put an arm around Buffy’s slim shoulders and guided her through the house toward the kitchen. "Care to join a lonely old lady for some macaroni and cheese?"

"I think that can be arranged," she joked and leaned in to let the impossible strength of her mother carry her through the familiar rooms of the past.

****

Anya materialized in the hallway just outside the guestroom and stood shaking her head. The place reeked of Willow and magic. Deep magic. Would these people ever wake up and get a clue? She had seen it from the moment she’d first laid eyes on the deceptively unassuming redhead. The power. The potential. But everyone else seemed blind to it. Even the Slayer. As if a spell had been cast to hide the terrifying power of the girl. Even from herself.

But there was something else at work here. Definitely. She could smell it. Her nose wrinkling at the stench of it, acrid and sickeningly sweet. Demon magic. Almost. Maybe some kind of demon-human hybrid? And whatever it was it was interfering with reality on a temporal level, which meant that D’Hoffryn was certainly aware of the situation. If he wasn’t directly involved in some way.

She stepped over the threshold and gasped at the roaring grief and agony of it. And the magic, strong and still actively coursing through the room in thick streams. Through everything.

Shifting from her human senses to Vengeance Demon she looked up to see it all in one nauseating rush. The bullet. The blood. Willow and Tara and Osiris. But there was more laid over and under the now of this room, a brighter thread just forming, twisting its way around the past that held to this room. Entangling realities in a nightmarish knot of passion and grief. Willow and Tara naked against each other in a dorm. But it wasn’t the Willow of then. It was this Willow making new time with her own hands. And Buffy separating the past and the present as she ran toward her mother.

And it was all happening now. Here. But it wasn’t. Which was confusing because she was a Vengeance Demon. This was what she did. Reality was her medium and her gift. She should be able to read it and write it easily.

But this was just a mess. Amateurish and rough. And somehow no matter how hard she stretched, it seemed to remain just outside her grasp.

With an exasperated grimace Anya forced her senses back to the room. Back to the human to try to understand why her powers were suddenly failing. There had to be something else...

The walls were scorched and scored like the Magic Box and she felt her face furrowing into what Xander had always described as her ‘’frowny face’. The room was a disaster of glass and ash. Her eyes travelled over the debris finally landing on an object that stilled everything. Made the world and every reality stand still.

"Occum’s Heart," she mumbled and closed her eyes. "Willow, what have you done now?"

****

**Part VIII**

Buffy groaned at the wonderful pain in her stomach. She hadn’t felt this full and content in years. After dinner they had decided to make cookies and watch a movie and now, ten cookies and two glasses of milk later, she was cursing her total lack of willpower when it came to her mother’s baking.

"Owww," she moaned out loud and felt her mother chuckle behind her as she ran a cool hand through Buffy’s hair. "I think you did this on purpose." Her eyes closed under her mother’s comforting touch.

"What?"

"This," she pointed weakly at the remaining cookies on the plate. "You’ve clearly been replaced by some evil Mom monster who’s trying to trap me here with yummy baked goods," she snuggled into her mother’s side, "and dangerously comfy PJs."

"I see my evil plan is working."

Buffy laughed at the playful tone of her mother’s voice. "Totally. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for at least a week."

Strong arms wrapped around her and she closed her eyes letting herself sink completely into the comfort of her mother. The world smelled like cinnamon and cookies and Mom and she was sure there had never been a moment in her life as beautiful as this one. It was safe and warm and even the Slayer in her seemed content. Or at least, seemed to be napping.

Meg Ryan’s voice finally filtered down through her senses and she opened her eyes to take in the strange sight of the blonde actress in black leather riding a motorcycle.

"See! Meg Ryan is hot…kind of….don’t you think? I mean, she’s cool with the hair and the…well, I don’t know what she’s doing in leather, but… cool … right?"

"Well I happen to think Meg Ryan is very cool, but I’m not exactly an expert."

Happy with her mother’s answer, Buffy closed her eyes again and pulled a blanket over the two of them. "Yes you are a certified expert because you are the coolest mom ever."

She felt the low rumble of her mother’s laughter against her back and smiled. "Thank you honey," her mother sighed and stiffened slightly. "But I am still a mom and so it’s my job to be uncool and ask you why you were crying earlier." She felt a light kiss on the top of her head and began to relax. This wasn’t an inquisition, this was her mother, holding her safe, trying to help.

But that brought her back to what wasn’t in the upstairs room. The device. And everything that meant. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t in the right time and her mother was dead there. Dead and gone. Willow’s warning about changing things suddenly echoed through her mind making her forehead tighten with worry. She turned gently to face her mother, to make sure that she was still there. And alive.

And she was. Buffy hit ‘pause’ on the remote and took a deep breath.

"Mom? What if you…I mean, if you could go back in time and change something…anything. What would you change? Or would you?"

Her mother was quiet for a while as she studied the familiar pattern of the blanket, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Hmmm. You mean, do I regret anything?"

Regret. There was that word again. The theme of her life in the real now.

"Yeah…maybe."

A soft laugh shook her from her thoughts. "Well, I definitely wouldn’t have been so hard on you about the slaying," she brushed blonde hair away from her daughter’s face with a sad smile. "I’m still sorry about that, you know."

"Really?" Buffy’s lips quirked into a surprised smile. "No apologies necessary." She took her mother’s hands in her own and squeezed. "You were just doing your Mom duty, trying to protect me."

Her mother sighed and shook her head, "But I made it so much harder for you when you needed me the most."

"Mom, really, it’s alright. No childhood trauma here okay?" Buffy squeezed the hands she held in her own and watched as her mother blinked slowly in her signature gesture of acceptance. "But that’s it? You wouldn’t change anything?"

Deep lines formed between Joyce’s eyebrows as she considered her daughter’s question. "Well, I probably would have had another baby." She smiled suddenly removing a hand from Buffy’s to push back an errant lock of hair. "You know, you always did want a sister. A nice, normal sister to drive you crazy and steal your clothes."

A sister. Dawn. She felt the tears threatening. Her mother had never told her. And she would have another baby. Soon. A teenage baby. But not a normal one. Her mother was doomed to having extraordinary daughters whose lives were foretold in ancient manuscripts, written in the stars.

She stared into her mother’s smiling eyes and realized that no matter how extraordinary Dawn’s origins were, she was just a teenage girl who had lost her mother. And she was her sister. A sister who was stuck in the future without this. Without cookies, and home and another chance to see her mother. One more thing Buffy couldn’t share with her.

The tears surprised her, rolling down her face before she could stop them.

"Oh, honey, it’s okay." She wiped the tears from her daughter’s face. "You’ll always be enough for me," hugging the crying Slayer to her, she murmured low. "And you’ll always be my baby."

After a few minutes, Buffy’s sobs subsided, but she didn’t withdraw from her mother’s arms.

"Buffy. You don’t have to tell me what’s upset you. I just…" she felt her mother draw a deep breath. "I don’t think you have to go back in time to make things right."

She pulled back slowly, wiping tears from her face. Could she tell her mother? "But what if… what if they’re gone and you can’t…?"

A sad smile crept across her mother’s face. "Is this about..." she began, but trailed off a frown forming on her face. "Buffy, I don’t believe anyone’s ever really gone. But maybe you shouldn’t concentrate on the past, on what you think you’ve done wrong. Maybe you should think about what you can do to make things right…now."

Buffy nodded absently, studying the beautiful lines of her mother’s face. She was right. She was always right in the way mother’s are.

But what was now? And when?

****

Dawn swept shards of broken glass and a few chicken feet into the dustpan and coughed through a cloud of black dust. They had been cleaning for over four hours, but it hadn’t made a dent in the mess of the store. At least it was easier than sitting around waiting and wondering about Anya. Where she was. What she was doing. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Anya really it was more that she didn’t trust the Vengeance Demon. And there was always the possibility that someone had made a wish. Over the past hour she had meticulously gone back through all of her interactions to make sure she hadn’t unwittingly verbalized the hope that had kept her company during the many nights she spent alone in the empty house. Tara. But it would be so easy…

"Shit!"

A warm smile played over Dawn’s face as she leaned against her broom to watch Faith struggle with an enormous display case that was listing dangerously to one side. The Slayer fought to hold the case with one hand while bracing it with a scrap of two by four. Finally, when the structure was relatively stable she stepped back to survey her handiwork. Dawn began to clap and whistle. Faith took a deep bow before throwing a clump of some unidentifiable herb in the teenager’s direction making her squeal in mock horror. In retaliation she showered the Slayer with chicken feet.

"Okay, that is just… foul!" Faith shuddered and carefully, almost daintily, removed one blackened claw from her shirt with two fingers. "And I’m thinking if I look anything like you I definitely need a shower." The Slayer wiped at something on her cheek creating an enormous black smudge on her already dirty face.

"Yeah, it’s so important to look your best for a demon."

"A very hot demon," the Slayer teased raising her eyebrows.

Dawn shook her head again in disgust. Faith attracted to Anya was just so wrong. "Didn’t you get enough of the bad girl action in the big house?"

"The big house?" Faith asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Okay, Half Pint…"

"Don’t Half Pint me!" She snapped. "I’m not a kid. I know what goes on in...those places." Dawn threw her head back angrily. She was so tired of being treated like a child by everyone. And she had always counted on Faith to treat her as an equal. Until now. "I know you were the alpha chick or whatever ‘cause of the Slayer strength… a-and you had a harem of hot chicks who were your bitch-…"

She was interrupted by a stunned Faith, her palm extended toward the teenager in the universal ‘shutup now’ gesture.

"Okay, first of all D, you’ve been watching way too much TV ‘cause, believe me, there are no hot chicks in the slam." She lowered her hand and smiled wickedly. "Well, okay, maybe one or two," the dark Slayer shook her head, her playful smile fading.

"The slam," Dawn repeated to herself. "That’s so cool. But you were definitely the top chick with all the bitches or whatever right?" Dawn continued, hands on hips in her best Faith impersonation. She expected a quick comeback or put-down, but the dark Slayer just studied her carefully for almost a minute.

"Yeah, I was the alpha chick for a while," she began carefully, her eyebrows drawing together into a hardened frown. "And then I wasn’t." Faith turned and began to pick up larger pieces of charred wood, throwing them into the refuse pile in the center of the room.

"What happened?" Dawn made sure to keep her tone low, careful not to break rhythm of the conversation. As far as she knew Faith had never opened up to anyone. About anything. No one knew anything about the dark Slayer.

"I don’t know, lots of things," she said quietly as she hurled an enormous piece of drywall onto the pile. "I guess I got sick of beating the crap out of everybody," she continued and began yanking at an enormous beam jutting out of the wall. "I know, hard to believe, huh?" Dawn held her breath. She could feel it. She was so close to something important. She watched as Faith struggled with the beam and then stopped abruptly. "And then… you know… Angel told me about your sister… that she’d been killed or whatever." Dawn watched the Slayer carefully. Watched her wince at the painful memory and then shrug it off before returning her attention to the wall.

And it was over. The moment was gone, but Dawn had what she needed. Or the beginnings of it. A piece of Faith, the real Faith. And Buffy. Because she had known it from the beginning that Faith and Buffy were two pieces made to fit together, but time and experience had worn and broken the edges. Reshaping them both until the seams were obvious, the gaps too large to overcome.

_Be careful. Because Faith is like a wild animal. Like those squirrels you're always trying to feed in the park. Any sudden movement and she'll bolt._

_Okay, probably more like a feral cat than a squirrel..._

"So, is that why you’re out? Good behavior or whatever?"

With a loud groan, the Slayer freed the gigantic beam from the wall and dragged it to the pile. "Don’t you people watch the news?" When she didn’t get an answer, Faith turned to Dawn, her trademark smirk replacing the thoughtful smile of the previous moments. "Juvenile offender." She rolled her eyes. "Once you turn eighteen they have to let you go and your record’s all squeaky clean."

"Really?"

"Yep," Faith just nodded and turned back to the wall to busy herself with cleaning up. "So if you’re gonna murder anybody, do it now."

"Well, the only person I’d murder is Spike and he’s already dead so…"

"Ew! What are you two doing? You’re making a mess in my store!" Dawn jumped at the sound of Anya’s voice and then moved quickly into irritation.

"For your information we were cleaning your store, but don’t thank us or anything," the teenager shot back testily.

Anya’s nose crinkled in disgust as she surveyed the blackened forms of the two women.

"Well stop because nothing’s getting cleaner and you’re now both just in desperate need of a shower."

Dawn dropped the broom handle placing her hands on her hips to begin an angry retort, but she was interrupted by Faith’s low voice.

"Is that an offer to help," Faith wiped her palms slowly on her shirt and eyed the vengeance demon. "With the shower? Because I definitely need help with all those hard-to-reach places."

"Please." Anya rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I don’t date Slayers. You’re all too butch."

"Who said anything about dating?" Faith shifted her weight from one hip to the other and Dawn watched in horror as Anya raised an eyebrow openly appraising the Slayer. As if she was actually considering it. The shower. And that brought up all sorts of disturbing thoughts about Faith and hot water and…Anya. Yuck.

"Hello! Impressionable teenager in the room!"

"She started it," Anya pointed at a completely non-plussed Faith. "And you can’t have it both ways. One minute you want to be treated like an adult, the next you’re all ‘oh please, don’t harm my innocent ears with your lesbian flirting and vague oral sex references…’"

"Oh my God! Stop! Please!" Dawn brought her hands to her ears. Sometimes the vengeance demon was like an unstoppable avalanche of words. Disturbing, inappropriate words that tumbled into the room without warning. Like an x-rated version of Willow babble. And that brought the teenager back to the reason they were here. Willow and Buffy. "Anya. Focus. Please." She sucked in an enormous breath. "What did you find out about Buffy and Willow?"

Anya again rolled her eyes and shifted effortlessly from innuendo to serious discussion. "Well, it’s not good, but you already knew that."

Dawn glanced worriedly at Faith who held her eyes and blinked slowly once to let her know that it was going to be okay.

"Well where are they and what is that silver thing and why does it seem like Tara’s in the room and…?"

Dawn felt something squeeze her hand and looked down to find the Slayer’s blackened hand in her own. She hadn’t even noticed that Faith had made her way to her side.

"It’s complicated." Anya sighed and stared at the hole in the ceiling. "The silver thing is called Occum’s Heart and it’s," her brow furrowed in frustration. "It’s kind of a time machine. But not. Which would be complicated enough on its own, but Willow’s involved so it’s like a thousand times …"

"So how do we de-activate it?" Faith interrupted.

"We don’t. I mean we can’t. It’s a spell. Someone cast it and the Heart just acts like a power cell kind of."

"Okay, well what’s the spell? And who is this Occum person?" the teenager quizzed and felt Faith squeeze her hand before releasing to cross her arms.

The vengeance demon took a deep breath as if preparing herself for a long monologue. "Occum’s not a person. He or she was some kind of super witch who was probably demon,"

"He or she?"

Anya resumed her explanation with increasing irritation. "It’s a legend. No one’s really seen this thing, it’s sort of like the demon Holy Grail. And ‘he or she’ because no one knows and demons sometimes have multiple genders so…oh! and it could be an ‘it’ because Ishn’al demons have like five different sexes…"

Dawn sighed and felt her jaw clench in frustration. "And what does it do?"

"Well, instead of doing it with just a penis or a vag-"

"No!" the teenager yelled in frustration and embarrassment. "The silver thing…Occum’s Heart!"

"Oh, that." The vengeance demon continued obviously disappointed that her explanation of demon sexuality was cut short. "Well, Occum supposedly made it after his or her lover was killed as a kind of second chance. A way to go back in time and do it over. Get her back." Her forehead was lined in concentration. "But it’s really way more complicated than that and if you weren’t rushing me and interrupting every two sec…."

"So Willow used this guy’s heart to go back in time and save Tara or something?"

"See, like that. Interrupting is just rude," Anya pouted and crossed her arms again tightly around herself. "And I’m already late for a meeting in Bangkok."

Dawn was absolutely furious, the rage welling up in her in a terrible wave. She wanted to beat Anya senseless. Making them wait for hours only to rush off to some meeting somewhere without really telling them anything. And that was the other infuriating thing. She wasn’t really telling them anything that could help Buffy. She took a step toward Anya ready to scream at her when she felt Faith’s hand on her arm.

"Look, we’re really sorry…it’s just B and Red and the whole apocalypse thing has us a little edgy you know?" Dawn was stunned into silence. Why was Faith being all nice? Shouldn’t she beating the demon senseless by now? "And thanks for, you know, helping us out."

Anya’s expression softened a bit and a slight smile formed on her lips. "No ‘thanks’ remember? Not doing this for you." Her forehead furrowed again and she took a deep breath. "And anyway, I don’t think it was Willow. I think Willow tried to stop it. With magic."

"But why…"

"It’s only for one person. Not two. So I’m thinking Buffy must have somehow activated it and Willow went all black magic trying to…"

"But Buffy would never…I mean, what would she want to change?"

Anya threw her hands up in the air and shrugged before moving to gather a few items from behind the counter. "That’s not really important is it?"

She felt as much as heard Faith slam a fist against her own thigh.

"So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for them to come back?" Faith’s voice came out as more of a growl.

"I told you it’s not that simple. Willow’s magic interfered with the spell so all bets are off. And Vra’al’s definitely going to want his heart back and rumor has it that for some reason he thinks you have it _and_ the Key which is some kind of big bonus," she gestured toward Dawn. "So if I was you…"

"What?" Faith barked beside her. "Who the fuck is Vra’al?"

"Major underworld player. Ten feet tall supposedly, but, you know, demons are like human men," she rolled her eyes in disgust. "Always exaggerating."

"But I thought…" Dawn began, stumbling in confusion. "I mean, it’s Occum’s Heart right?"

"Well, yeah!" Anya shook her head at Dawn’s ignorance. "It was once he took it from Vra’al."

She felt Faith’s tension build beside her. "But this Vra’al guy doesn’t have a heart so how is he gonna…"

"Oh, he has four other ones. That was just his favorite. And minions. Did I mention minions?" Anya waved at them, distracted. "Sorry, but I’m late…."

"Anya! You can’t just leave us like this," Dawn yelled in desperation. Things were moving too fast. And once again, someone she needed, someone she depended on was leaving. "Can’t you do something? You deal with this reality time stuff all the time."

That seemed make the vengeance demon pause for the moment at least. Inhaling sharply she said, "I can’t. For about thirteen different reasons. And don’t ask me to explain because you can’t understand…"

"You mean I’m too stupid," Dawn muttered angrily crossing her arms in front of her.

"No I mean you really can’t." Anya answered without a hint of her usual condescension. "Human brains just aren’t built to think that way." She sighed again angrily and continued. "But the main reason is that D’Hoffryn forbids it. No one is allowed to interfere with Willow Rosenburg in any way. Period."

"What? Why?"

Anya shook her head sadly. "How should I know? I just work there." Anya grimaced and looked in her bag. "And I really have to go, like, now or I’m gonna get fired. And that word has a whole other meaning when you work for a demon." Dawn watched a sad smile take hold of the vengeance demon’s face.

"Are you coming back?" she asked weakly.

Anya looked genuinely surprised. "Do you want me to?"

And that just made her angry for some reason. How stupid were these people? She may not be able to understand multi-dimensional time reality stuff, but she could see that they should be together at a time like this. "Yes! Jeez!" Dawn exploded shaking her head in exasperation.

And then the absolutely impossible happened. Anya hugged her and gave them both a shy wave before simply vanishing.

"Great. Now what?" Dawm looked around the ruined interior of the store and thought of her sister and Willow stranded somewhere in the past. And there was nothing they could do to help them.

"Well, I guess it’s time for me to find some weapons and slay this four-hearted Vra’al guy."

"Oh yeah," she answered with a smile because if nothing else she still had Faith. And when facing a demon and his minions that was a lot.

****

**Part IX**

It felt like it had taken hours to navigate the Quad and the dorm hallways to reach Tara’s room. A long journey of fumbling kisses and stares full of longing that had finally brought them here. Where they belonged. Where it had all started. Willow smiled and felt a contented sigh escape her as she took in the familiar dorm room. The dark walls and tiny lights, the wonderful smells of tea and jasmine and Tara. She closed her eyes and let it transport her to another time. Before. When everything between them was awkward and true. Their first clumsy kiss and ‘I-love-you’s that weren’t anymore. She had rewritten that. They had rewritten it together. The kiss. But still no ‘I love you’. She would have to correct that…

All thought left her mind as Tara’s mouth descended on her own in a clumsy but demanding kiss. Willow smiled into the difference of it. The newness of this mouth that should have been so familiar.

"S-sorry," Tara pulled back abruptly, her head beginning to duck with insecurity. "Is that o-okay if I… ?"

Willow pulled her in to silence that perfect mouth with hot kisses and was surprised to find herself pushed forcefully against the door, Tara’s body pressed against her, her hands moving under the redhead’s t-shirt, hiking up her skirt.

"Oh my God!" Willow finally managed, gasping for air as Tara’s mouth moved to her neck and finally to her stomach.

And they were definitely going to have to move to the bed or she was going to fall over and injure them both. But one quick glance told her the bed was covered in books. Lots of them. Heavy, leather-bound tomes that the redhead knew instinctively were magic-related.

That’s going to take way too long to move, she thought absently as the heat of Tara’s mouth made its slow progress over her stomach. Her knees were growing weak as the blonde pulled her skirt up around her waist.

And she was struck again by the differences between her memories of this time and the exquisite heat of now. This Tara was unrestrained and…she gasped as she felt the warmth of the blonde’s mouth descend again…

_And where the hell did she learn to do… _she gasped again. _That?!? We didn’t do that until…_

She slid down the door as the wet heat of Tara’s mouth moved against the fabric between her legs. And then caught herself. Risking another glance at the bed she had just decided to move to the floor when something caught her eye. Something familiar and completely unexpected. A woodcut of the device that had started everything. She froze immediately. It was a déjà vu, but more than that because she knew that somehow this had all happened before, like a memory just out of reach, a word unspoken on the tip of her tongue. A memory of this room. This Tara.

The Tara from this time who believed that the redhead was the same shy hacker geek and sidekick to the Slayer. The Willow who belonged here in this now. That girl who was not a liar. Not a murderer or a power-addicted witch. Yet. She felt the guilt and shame crushing down on her in terrible waves. She was lying to Tara again and it had to stop.

_How many times can I fail you…_

Now. She had to tell her now even if it ruined everything. Even though it would take every ounce of her strength because the heat between her legs was undeniable…

"Tara," she gently pulled the blonde’s face up to meet her own. "I need to tell you …" she smiled, gasping for air, "we need to talk….about earlier." Willow leaned in to place a gentle kiss on the blonde’s lips, but was surprised to feel her pull away.

"Oh! S-sorry….I know…I mean, I know it was j-just…" Willow watched as the blonde backed away, her shoulders hunching in shame as her eyes again found the floor.

_You idiot! Be careful what you say here. You went from shy, geeky hetero friend to lesbian sex fiend in a matter of hours and she has no idea…_

"No, no, no! No!" She took the blonde’s hands in her own and bent to find blue eyes. "That’s not the kind of talk I mean."

The blonde backed away again and looked at the floor, her hair hiding her eyes again. "It’s okay…Willow I mean, I kn-know there’s…Oz,"

"No! No Oz." Willow shook her head emphatically. "This is so not about him." She took a deep breath as her eyes wandered over the room’s contents landing finally on the open texts. That talk would have to wait. There was something more important that needed to be said. Corrected. Because she had said it before…then. In that other past the ‘I love you’s had come first before even a kiss and she knew that Tara needed to hear it desperately. So she brought her hands up to cup the blonde’s face, gently bringing her face up to her own. "Okay, I thought there was only one talk that needed to happen, but apparently there are two because I’ve been so busy with…um, other things that I…so…" the redhead couldn’t help but smile at her own nervous rambling. Like I’m channeling Old Willow. "So this officially begins the talk where I tell you that I’m absolutely, totally in love with you Tara Maclay."

Blue eyes finally met her own, brimming with tears and Willow released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. "Really?" The blonde’s hesitant question brought an enormous smile to the redhead’s lips. All of this doubt and uncertainty that Tara had somehow managed to overcome. She found herself wondering exactly when that transition had happened. Was it after they turned her father away or had it been a subtle change over weeks and months. A slow, comfortable slide into the confident woman Tara would become. And she loved them both — the shy, sweet girl of the past who stood before her and the strong, take-charge woman she had lost. She would always love them both.

"Really." She whispered against Tara’s lips. "Love you. Always have. Always will." She kissed her lightly and pulled back to study the changing lines of Tara’s face as she finally allowed herself to believe. "And want you too," she kissed her again feeling the blonde’s lips turn up in a smile against her own. "Gods, like every second," another lingering kiss. "So don’t ever…" Tara sighed against her lips, "worry…’cause Tara kisses… always good."

Willow felt the cement set of her shoulders soften as Tara deepened the kiss, her cool fingers exploring her neck, smoothing away the tension. Her lips pulled away gently and Willow forced her eyes open to find a shy smile on the blonde’s face.

"I love you so much Willow," blue eyes moved over her face, the blonde’s smile fading slightly as her eyes became unfocused. Willow took a deep breath to steady herself knowing Tara was reading her again. She felt it this time. Felt the blonde’s energy like a warm breeze blowing around her. Through her.

"What do you see Tara?"

The blond witch jumped slightly, startled out of her thoughts. "N-nothing."

Willow took her hands in her own and squeezed them slightly. "It’s okay. You can tell me," she began gently and waved at the air around her. "This…is kind of the other thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh…I…" the blonde began and faltered, a deep line forming between her eyebrows as she studied the space around them. There was a long silence and she willed herself to stay silent. To give Tara the room she needed to say what had to be said. "It’s just…your aura…" the blonde trailed off and looked left before smiling slightly. "Y-your aura was the first thing I noticed about you. So beautiful." Tara’s smile brightened as she reached out to touch red hair tentatively. "Like a halo of sunshine, with these veins of white and g-green running through it," Tara’s face scrunched in concentration as she struggled to articulate the indescribable. "Kind of like this explosion of liquid, fiery marble." Blue eyes returned to meet her own for a moment and the smile faded.

"But?" Willow prodded gently.

"Did something h-happen to you?"

Willow just nodded and waited. That was so like Tara. She had obviously seen something terrible in her aura. Something dark, but her only concern was for Willow. She steeled herself for what was coming. Was this the moment then when it ended? When the spell was broken?

"B-because…" the blonde touched her face gently, "now there are v-veins of…darkness," she frowned in concentration, "every-w-where…and…" she trailed off, her mouth snapping shut as if she was afraid to say more.

"I know." She placed her hand over Tara’s where the fingers rested lightly on her cheek. "But you don’t have to worry, I’d never hurt you."

Tara’s face twisted with confusion as she looked deeply into green eyes and cupped the redhead’s face in both hands. "I’m not worried for me Willow. I’m worried for you."

She felt the tightening in her throat, the burning in her eyes as the tears began to cloud her vision. But the grief would have to wait. There was too much that needed to be said before it was all taken away. Because it would be eventually. It always was.

She looked deep into blue and began. "Tar-" but her voice broke again around that word. Inhaling deeply, she averted her eyes and found them returning to the open text on the bed. The device. She turned and pulled Tara with her to stand over the illustration. "How…I mean, why are you researching this?"

Tara looked at the open book before turning again to search her eyes and Willow could see the confusion there. The concern. But there was something else overpowering everything. The blonde would wait for her to find her way to the explanation because she trusted her. With everything. Willow fought back another sob and pushed herself back to the present.

"I don’t know. I was re…s-searching something and it just seemed so familiar and s-sad," she rolled her eyes, an embarrassed smile twisting across her features. "I know it’s s-silly…"

"No it’s not ‘cause that’s why I’m here," she felt her forehead furrowing at the implications of this ‘coincidence’. Tara’s hunches were never to be taken lightly and there was her own overwhelming sense of déjà vu. "I mean, literally, that’s why I’m here, but I don’t know much about it." She squinted at the small text under the woodcut, but could only make out the words ‘Occum’s Heart -- mythical demon device.’

_Guess it’s not so mythical_ she thought with a rueful smile. She scanned the other books strewn across the comforter and found that they were all familiar texts on demons.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I’m not this Willow…" she trailed off as the blonde’s face twisted with confusion and concern. _Be careful. Be careful what you say. You could lose her again so easily…_ "I know it sounds insane or like a really bad movie, but Buffy and I are here from the future." Willow looked down at the illustration and continued, "it was this…device. There were two words on the back." She shrugged. "Buffy said them by mistake and now we’re stuck here. I’m sorry I should have told you before…" she trailed off, squeezing Tara’s hand sure that it was the last time she would be able to touch the blonde. She had betrayed her. Made love to her under false pretenses. She wasn’t this Willow.

"So you’re both back in time in your old bodies?" Which wasn’t what she was expecting at all so she nodded quietly and waited. "Where’s the H-heart?"

Willow smiled as she studied the blonde’s look of deep concentration. "I’m thinking it’s probably still in the future, that it just triggered the spell. But I have no idea what the spell does…except for the obvious."

"So that’s why all the d-darkness then," Tara’s forehead was still furrowed in concentration. "because it’s a demon spell."

And it would have been so easy to agree. To lie. But she wasn’t going to be that girl again. "No," her eyes dropped immediately to the floor in shame and she felt her fingers grow colder in Tara’s hot grip. "Tara, I can’t tell you everything, but…" she swallowed past a lump in her throat and took a deep breath to steady herself. "Terrible things happened…are going to happen," the blonde nodded her understanding and she forced herself to go on. "And I do terrible things. Really awful things Tara," a tear slipped down her cheek. "Evil, unforgivable things,’ she finished quietly.

There was another long silence as the two of them stood holding hands.

"W-was it me?" Her head immediately snapped up to face the blonde. "I mean, because if I hurt anyone…" she was nearly hysterical, desperate as her eyes roamed over the redhead’s face. "you need to tell me so I w-won’t…."

Willow stood staring at her trying to understand the sudden turn. She had been expecting anger and hurt at her painful admission, but this…

She studied Tara’s features, the fear and desperation that were growing with every moment and it all fell into place with a nearly audible click. The texts, the terrible future she had described. This Tara still believed she was a demon, believed that she would inevitably bring pain and suffering to anyone who loved her.

"No! It was all me. Completely me and that’s…" Willow paused momentarily unsure of how much to give away. Would it change things? _You’ve already changed everything!_ "You’re not a demon Tara," she finally said forcefully, holding blue eyes steady with her own. Blue eyes clouded with doubt.

"No Willow, you don’t understand I…" Tara began, shaking her head violently.

"You’re not," she interrupted softly. "It was all a lie. Your father told you that to control you. To keep you from becoming more powerful than him."

"No, that’s not p-possible. I mean, how do you…"

She smoothed golden hair behind one ear and held her face with one shaky hand. "There’s a kind of a demon test…’ she began and then realized she was going to have to go into detail about Spike and changed direction. "I, uh, can’t tell you how I know, but I do know this." She brought another hand up to cup the blonde’s face. "Tara, you are the purest soul I’ve ever met. Believe me, there’s no demon in you… anywhere."

"So I’m not?"

Tears clouded her vision as she watched Tara struggle with the weight of it all. The terrible knowledge that the man she trusted and feared most, the man who should have protected her was a liar. Had made her hate herself and fear the future.

"No, baby," she murmured gently stroking Tara’s hair, loving the silk of it pouring through her fingers and then pulled her into her arms. "Absolutely no demon in there anywhere. Just beautiful, brilliant, wonderful Tara." The scent of jasmine and sandalwood washed over her as she nuzzled into golden hair and fell into the all of Tara.

And suddenly it was there in the room with them. Magic. Deep and dark and powerful tearing at the fabric of reality with a searing cold.

_No!_

_Not yet._

She reached down into herself again to stop it. The magic. But it was deeper this time and stronger and she thought she felt something familiar in it. Something that seemed to speak her name in that other language that told time in millennia. And then the black.


	6. Chapter 6

"So if it’s just some big dumb demon looking for his heart what’s with all the ‘end of the world’ stuff?"

Dawn studied the darkened features of the Slayer who walked briskly beside her, an enormous axe and broadsword resting on one shoulder. Faith had grown silent as they walked away from the Magic Box, her eyes rapidly scanning the growing dark.

"I mean, it doesn’t sound so apocalyptic to me," she continued hoping for a response, but Faith just shrugged.

"Probably just Cordelia being a Drama Queen as usual," the Slayer finally offered without breaking stride and shifted the weapons from one shoulder to another.

Her memories of Cordelia were dim and vague evoking a strange mixture of terror and awe. And oddly, images of very short skirts. She looked up to find that they were entering the cemetery and stopped.

Faith turned immediately to face her. "What?"

"This is the cemetery."

"Yeah?"

"And it’s dark."

"Yeah, it kind of does that at night," Faith offered glibly and Dawn rolled her eyes. She had definitely walked right into that one.

"Why are we here?"

The Slayer scowled and brought the weapons off her shoulder to rest on the ground in one graceful motion.

"Is this a trick question? ‘Cause I thought, you know, you being Buffy’s little sis that you would know the drill." Dawn stood speechless. Was it possible that Faith was going to take her with her on Patrol again? "See, me Slayer," Faith pounded a fist against her chest in her best Cave-Slayer imitation and Dawn again rolled her eyes, "they…uh, are vampires." She flipped the broadsword once effortlessly and handed the teenager the hilt before motioning dramatically toward the arched stone gateway. "And we slay."

She said ‘we,’ Dawn thought with growing excitement and rolled the leather grip of the sword in her hands. But Buffy would kill her. No, Buffy would kill Faith and then never let her leave the house again. That was what had almost happened the last time. Except for the Faith-murdering part. But this Buffy would definitely kill Faith and probably send her to some convent school in the Swiss Alps or something.

_But Buffy isn’t here…and the world’s gonna end anyway so who cares._

"So what’s the plan? Am I like your backup? Shouldn’t I have a stake?"

Faith shook her head and hefted the axe onto her shoulder again. "Too easy to miss with a stake and that’ll just piss them off. Just stay out of the way. But if one of them gets by me, start swinging."

Dawn nodded wildly, too excited by the prospect of actually getting to go on Patrol to admit that she didn’t have any idea how to use a sword.

"So I have to cut their heads off…"she began but stopped as the Slayer turned and began walking in long very un-Buffy strides toward the cemetery.

"Forget about that. Hack off an arm or a leg and they’ll probably leave you alone long enough for me to dust ‘em," she said over her shoulder and Dawn struggled after her. She could hear the smile in Faith’s voice, could almost feel her excitement. Buffy acted like she was going off to clean toilets when she went on Patrol, but Faith obviously loved it. Everything about it. And who wouldn’t, Dawn thought shaking her head, testing the weight of the sword in her hands. This was so freakin’ cool!

They walked purposefully through the labyrinth of dimly lit paths finally stopping at a fresh grave.

"Now what?" Dawn whispered loudly and watched a predatory smile cross the dark Slayer’s face as she studied the grave and the cemetery around them.

"Now we wait for the fun to start."

"Fun," Dawn murmured with a smile and stared at the loose dirt covering the grave in front of them. "But shouldn’t we be at home, you know, in case this Vra’al guy shows up for his heart or whatever?"

Faith scowled and seemed to consider her question briefly, "Someone’s gotta slay and if the VD’s right, Red can handle anything," she looked to her left suddenly before continuing obviously distracted. "And I’m thinking I don’t want to be around if she does." Faith smiled wistfully, "She never liked me much."

"Oh yeah," Dawn shifted the leather grip in her now-sweaty grip. If Willow really had gone all dark magic-y again, she didn’t want to be around her either. Or even on the same continent. "So do you think…" she began but was cut off by a quick signal from Faith, her hand palm-down in the familiar gesture for silence that Buffy used when she was was being bossy Colonel Buffy.

She turned the sword grip in her hands again as Faith stepped between her and the dark woods behind them. "Here kitty kitty." Silence. "Don’t make me come get you," she continued in a disturbing parody of an angry parent and Dawn understood with a chill that Faith sensed a vampire out there somewhere.

"No worries Slayer, just came to talk to Little Bit." A familiar figure emerged from the darkness clad in a long black coat with peroxided hair, his hands held palm up in surrender. Dawn felt the sword slip from her grip and fall to the ground with a dull thud as a violent mix of emotions ran through her. Her first impulse was to run to him. He would help them. And he probably knew things. It was a demon thing after all. And he had always protected her. But then she remembered Buffy broken and bruised and the terrible conversation she wasn’t supposed to hear.

"Go away Spike," she growled and stepped up to stand even with Faith, surprised at the angry tone of her own voice.

The vampire actually looked surprised. And hurt. He stared for a few moments and then tried again, his voice soft and gentle, "Look, I know I…"

"You tried to rape my sister!" She didn’t say it. She would never have said it. It was torn out of her in one violent spasm of grief and anger that hit Spike like a physical blow. He staggered back slightly and his mouth closed around whatever he had come to say.

"What?"

Faith. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she turned to the Dark Slayer and saw the flash of fury in those dark eyes. This was the Faith they all feared. She understood it now. The dark and the power and the terrible wounded thing at the base of it all. And she knew without any doubt that she was looking into the face of death.

_Oh god!_

"Faith, no…" but it was too late. The Slayer moved like a shadow, faster than Buffy, faster than anything she had ever seen. A rush of motion that swept Spike up effortlessly in a screaming tornado of anger and pinned him against an enormous tree. She saw the stake pull back in a long arc and pause for what seemed like an hour, but must have only been a fraction of a second. "No!" And then the blur and hiss of it as the Slayer brought it home.

****

**Part X - The thing with feathers**

"You’re late!" Anya hissed and hustled a confused Slayer toward what seemed to be a white altar. They walked through a well-dressed crowd sitting quietly in neat rows of chairs. "They can’t start without you , you know?"

"Who can’t?

But there was no answer and she found herself standing next to Willow, her back to the audience, the murmur of impatience and anticipation bubbling around her. She could feel their eyes on her and she couldn’t resist turning to make sure they were still seated. And human.

"Do you, Willow Rosenburg, take Tara Maclay and Buffy Summers…"

"I do!" her best friend interjected enthusiastically and Buffy felt a warm hand squeeze her own from far away.

_Something’s not right, this is…_

The redhead fidgeted nervously next to her and she turned see that she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white peasant blouse. But there was something wrong. Was that paint?

"Willow, your shirt…"

Willow turned to her with a beatific smile, her head tilting slightly in a question and Buffy looked down to find a growing circle of red on the clean white of her own shirt.

"Buffy, where’s your ring?"

"I.." she began and then stopped. The device was now resting in the palm of her hand. Silver with stars. And warm.

"Remember sweetie? We don’t need them." Looking up from the crimson on her shirt she found a matching stain on Tara’s. Mesmerized, she watched the liquid red blossom and grow on the blonde’s chest.

A loud scream brought her back to the moment.

"Dawn?" She turned wildly to locate the source of the screams only to discover that they were in a cemetery. And it was dark.

_A wedding in a cemetery? Must be Sunnydale…_

Everyone was gone and she was left with the screaming that seemed to come from every direction at once. And Tara.

"Do you remember now?"

And Buffy knew what she meant somehow, as if the words had been waiting here for her. "Back before Dawn," she mumbled and Tara smiled that lopsided smile that somehow meant as much as Mom’s and nodded. "Where is she?"

Tara looked to her left with a heartbroken grimace and slowly closed her eyes. Buffy followed her line of sight to find Willow in red overalls and a striped shirt lying face down on the grass as she concentrated on floating a slowly turning pencil. She looked so young and vulnerable. Impossible that this girl had faced vampires and demons. That this was the girl she had fought so hard to protect.

"Right where you left her," Tara answered softly. The redhead’s sneakered feet kicked in the air as she focused on the levitation with childlike determination and the Slayer felt her throat tighten at this vision of her old friend.

"Hey Buffy, I think I’m getting pretty good at this magic stuff!" And then she saw the eyes. Black with dark magic and felt the nightmare fear run through her body like ice. But this wasn’t the demon Willow. There was no anger or malice, just the incongruity of those black eyes set in the elfin, naïve features.

"I’m sorry Tara," she managed to whisper.

"Don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world," the blonde witch offered with a sad shrug.

Another agonizing scream ripped through the night and Buffy felt a terrible pain in her chest. She brought a hand up to the searing wound and felt warm wet. The blonde witch stayed silent, but gave a sad glance to a crumbling crypt. Buffy cleared the distance in seconds as the screaming grew louder and more panicked. Tearing the rusted metal door from its hinges she rushed in to find herself in the familiar blinding white of a hospital room.

Important-looking machines flashed numbers and beeped regularly. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of antiseptic and bleach. She hated hospitals. They were never about healing and cures. Hospitals were suffering and death and surgeries that didn’t work. And ‘complications.’ Which she had learned was just another word for torture and death. She followed the tubes and cords to a bed and felt the pain in her chest grow bright and hot.

"No." Dawn lay in a white hospital gown, her head bandaged and bruised, a respirator bringing her chest up and down at unnaturally regular intervals. "I’m sorry I’m too late," she whispered.

"You know if someone’s underwater you can still talk to them," she felt tears slide down her cheeks at the sound of the soft voice beside her. "They can hear you from miles away." Buffy turned away from the terrible sight of her sister to find Faith standing next to the bed. "It just takes longer to get there."

"I don’t dream about you anymore." Buffy said calmly as Faith efficiently spread a clean white sheet over her sister, careful not to cover her face.

"Yeah, right," a soft smirk played across the dark Slayer’s features. "You know you really ought to get that looked at." Faith extended her arm to brush two fingers over the bloody material clinging to her chest.

"It’s my heart," Buffy said quietly, but found that she couldn’t look away from the pale hand hovering just in front of her.

"It was meant for me," Faith’s hand turned over slowly to reveal the silvery demon device sitting like liquid mercury in her palm. "So I could fix things."

"I’ll fix it," she responded curtly, but couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the shining metal. "That’s my job."

The image before her eyes began to waver and shrink as if it was receding. "That’s the thing B, Slayers aren’t made to fix things," Faith’s voice grew more distant as the metal began to shimmer and shift as if…"we’re the breakers." And she was suddenly out of breath, a strong mail-covered hand holding her down. Holding her underwater

_It’s those Renaissance Fair guys who work for the fatty. I followed Faith into the sewer and now we’re both going to die…and she doesn’t even care. She thinks this is fun!_

_If I can just get that device I can stop everything…_

She reached out through the cold, foul water toward the shiny brightness, but her hand met nothing, her eyes and brain fooled by the water, lungs burning for air as she fought. Why wasn’t Faith helping her?

_Why should she? I wouldn’t help her. Now._

She was dying. She knew what it was like to drown because she had done it before and this was it. But she had lived through this particular ‘drowning’ hadn’t she?

"Buffy!" It was Faith’s voice that brought her back, her eyes focusing immediately on the clear image of the metal heart. And then it was Willow’s voice and Tara and Dawn’s, all of them desperate and terrified and far away.

 

 

Buffy sat up in bed gasping for air, the sheets knotted and torn in her fists.

It was a dream. Just a dream, she told herself, but knew that it wasn’t. It was _that_ kind of dream. A dream that wasn’t. And she couldn’t seem to suck the air into her lungs fast enough because it was still waiting in the room with her ready to steal her breath.

"Buffy honey?" she jumped at the sound and turned to find her mother beside her. At the sight of the gentle expression of concern she finally let go of all the worry and grief and burst into tears in her mother’s arms.

As gentle hands stroked her back, she felt the sobs subside and sniffled.

"Sorry if I woke you up."

"It’s okay, I was up anyway," her mother pulled back to study her face. "One of my headaches."

_Headaches. Mom._

"You have to go to a doctor!" It came out much louder than she expected and her mother blinked once in confusion before her face softened into a tired smile.

"I’ve been to a doctor, honey. I’m fine," she tucked a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. "Really. It’s just…"

"But…no. You need to see another doctor. Ten doctors!" she held her mother’s shoulders in her strong grip and fought back the tears. "Tomorrow. Okay? Promise me."

Her mother studied her carefully, her head tilting slightly to the right and then closed her eyes in her signature gesture of acceptance. "Okay honey, but tomorrow’s Saturday." That was when she noticed the playful smile. "Getting appointments with ten doctors on the weekend may be a little difficult."

"No. I am the Slayer," Buffy began with mock-sternness and then wiped her nose with a pajama sleeve. "And what I say goes. So, you’ll just have to find ten doctors who are all willing to be all doctor-y on Saturday."

Her mother’s smile widened Buffy felt all of the tension drain away as she placed a kiss on her forehead. "Are you going to be able to get back to sleep honey? That sounded like quite a nightmare."

"Well, maybe if I could sleep in your bed, they wouldn’t be able to find me," she said softly amazed at the child-like tone of her own voice. But her mother’s gentle laugh reminded her that it was okay. This was her mother. She could be scared and small here and no one would have to know.

"Well, you are the Slayer, so I guess I don’t have much choice."

"No, you don’t," she smiled and rose from the nightmare bed to make her way to the room that would always be her mother’s. She knew what she had to do now. It was all there. Had always been there waiting for her to find it. She didn’t have the entire picture, but she had the pieces and tomorrow she would begin to put them together. Tomorrow. But tonight…

"Mom?" Her mother turned in the darkened hallway at the serious tone of her daughter’s voice.

"Yes."

"You know I love you right?" She didn’t need Slayer vision to see the smile on her mother’s face, she could feel it. Everywhere. Always.

 

****

 

It was the scream that did it. Spike’s scream as the stake pierced his chest brought the limited contents of Dawn’s stomach up in a convulsion that drove her to her knees.

"Fuck!"

She waited on all fours staring at the dark blades of grass for the low whisper of the vampire’s end, but there was nothing. Just the howling obscenity as Faith threw her head back in frustration and unanswered rage. Which meant that Spike was alive. Or more accurately, was still undead. And she should feel happy, but she didn’t. A large part of her wanted the Slayer to stake his undead, wannabe-rapist ass. No more Buffy sleeping with vampire issues. Her sister would be free of him because he would just be gone and it wouldn’t even be her fault because she tried to stop it. Right? It would just be Faith and her unstable, kill-anything-that-moves impulses.

"Shit!" And then a long guttural groan of a yell like a wolf denied its prey. "He’s a fucking vamp D!" She was right of course. "And I’m a Vampire Slayer. Do you know how many people he’s killed?" Dawn just blinked from all fours. "Try, like, a hundred thousand at least."

"I know, but he saved me. Or he tried at least," she managed softly and shifted back to sit on her heels. It sounded so selfish out there with all those others who hadn’t lived. Whose lives had been ended by the vampire’s two-hundred-year reign of terror. What was one silly Slayer’s sister in the face of all those thousands?

"Stake me then," Spike sobbed as he hung limp from the stake in his chest, his feet dangling like a child’s beneath him. He didn’t look so dangerous now. He looked like the guy who watched cartoons with her. Not the bloodthirsty killer she knew he was. Because he was. There were whole books written on the subject of William the Bloody. Xander had shown them to her. And where was Xander anyway?

"Shut up!" Faith screamed in a rage at the vampire and held a fresh stake in front of his face. "Fucking anger management classes. I should have killed that therapist! Getting me in touch with my feelings!"

"Stake me!" Spike was now yelling and grabbing at Faith’s stake. "I can’t take it!" he moaned and then clawed at his chest with his free hand, writhing around the stake in his chest. "I can’t…please…" Dawn could see the strain on Faith’s face as she grew very still, her eyes narrowing as she studied the blonde vampire. And then she stumbled back, the stake falling to her side.

"How d-did you…" she stammered in angry shock and then stopped, bringing the stake back up between them.

There was something happening here, something huge. Dawn could see that now. Whatever it was it was enough to make Spike cry and make Faith just… stop. And that was big and important, but she knew she couldn’t ask. She shouldn’t break the fragile calm that had suddenly descended on the scene.

Then it broke.

"You think that makes a fucking difference?" Faith demanded, her mouth twisting in hard snarl.

_Oh god, oh god. What makes a difference?_

Whatever it was it was dangerous enough to frighten Faith. And that couldn’t be good.

"No! I didn’t. I didn’t want this," he shook his head and sobbed, his body hanging limp from the stake. "It’s terrible, the things I’ve done…

"Shut up!" All Dawn could think over and over was _shutup Spike. Please shutup._ Because she was there again, the Dark Slayer and she wasn’t sure she could stop her this time. In one quick motion Faith stood over the vampire, a stake drawn back to impale him. "You think it makes a difference?" she yelled into his face and Dawn saw something truly miraculous and terrifying -- tears in Faith’s eyes. "Every murdering, raping, child molesting scumbag on this planet has a soul William! It doesn’t mean a fucking thing!"

Dawn watched terrified as the crippled vampire cowered before the Slayer. She could feel the cold wet of the grass soaking through the knees of her jeans, pulling all the warmth from her body. Spike had a soul? Like Angel? Did that mean he was good now? Did that mean Faith wouldn’t stake him? But he had still done all those terrible things. He had still hurt her sister. And she was scared by how much she wanted the Dark Slayer to hurt him. To punish him.

And then suddenly she was weightless, dangling from an iron clamp around her neck. Faith and Spike were now below her as she clutched at the thing around her throat. A hand? A very strong hand like metal or stone.

A deep voice growled from someplace to her left, "The Key," and then Faith’s voice far away screaming her name.

****

Willow groaned as she slowly returned to consciousness. She was in someone’s arms. Someone who smelled like Tara. And she was humming softly, whoever this someone was.

Her thoughts quickly coalesced around the events that lead to her current situation. The device that Tara had given a name to. Occum’s Heart? And Tara. She had somehow gone back in time to Tara. And the magic. She had blacked out. And that meant…

_I lost her again._

It was over. She had known it couldn’t last. And it hadn’t.

"Tara!" Her eyes were wide open in an instant, already filling with tears. She expected to see the terrible room in the Summers’ house, but it was Tara staring down into her eyes. And beyond her the familiar room with dark walls and strings of tiny lights. Tara. Staring down at her with an expression between concern and…was that fear?

Without thinking she reached up and threw both arms around Tara’s neck and held her tight, mumbling her name over and over into silken hair. She moved to kiss Tara’s cheeks and her forehead before finally pulling back to study her beautiful face.

The blonde smiled down at her. "Are you o-okay?" Willow nodded and let her eyes wander over the miraculous sight above her. "I th-thought you w-were…" she began and then stopped to kiss the redhead firmly on the lips. Willow couldn’t help but smile into the warm lips on her own, wondering what had brought on such a bold move from the shy blonde.

"You thought I was?" she prompted carefully, still smiling. Still unable to believe that she was here. With Tara.

"The W-Willow from this time. The one who d-doesn’t…." she began with a sad smile and rolled her eyes in embarrassment "I m-mean, when the spell’s over, you’ll probably, uh, go back to being th-this…Willow, right? The Willow who doesn’t um, want me?"

Willow watched as Tara’s eyes lost their focus. She was reading her again. Seeing the future Willow’s energy with all its darkness.

_And she’s glad I’m still here?_

"Tara I never didn’t want you. Ever. Believe me I was always with the wanting of you. It just…it gets so," she tapped her head lightly, "…busy up here it takes me longer to really know some things. You know?"

Tara nodded, but still didn’t seem convinced.

"In fact, in the real timeline, tonight was our first kiss." Willow tucked a strand of gold behind a perfect ear and watched as Tara’s face erupted into a beaming smile.

"Really?"

"Really," she nodded. "But just a kiss. I was way too shy for," she lifted her eyebrows playfully, "…you know, all that."

"All what?" Tara asked and she recognized the flirtatious tone in her voice immediately.

"All this," she murmured and pulled the blonde down into a long deep kiss.

"Oh that." Tara’s tone was teasing. Playful. Sexy even. And Willow felt the want hit her with overwhelming force. Then the slight tug of magic calling her back. She said the words that would center her self and felt the tug recede.

"Willow? What just happened?" Tara’s voice was small and scared.

"You felt that?" A small nod from the blonde and Willow sat up, furrowing in concentration. "The spell, I think. From the device. I keep feeling it like it’s still trying to work on me…" The blonde’s eyes, when she met them were unfocused again. Studying her. "What do you see?"

Tara’s eyes were still far away. "Um, sometimes it’s not so much w-what I…see. Sometimes it’s m-more what I f-feel." Willow waited patiently as the blonde’s forehead furrowed in concentration. "It was k-kind of like a, um, an earthquake…but magic. And…" she trailed off and looked at her hands.

"And what?" Willow brought a shaky hand to her face, letting her fingers glide over a soft cheek.. Tara’s eyes closed and she let out a long breath.

"And, well, at first I thought it was…" she blushed and Willow wondered what could possibly be causing the blonde so much doubt and discomfort. She cupped her cheek and ran her thumb over perfect lips and Tara smiled into her hand to begin again. "I could feel you…like, everywhere and I th-thought it was ‘cause, um…" she ducked her head with a shy smile and the redhead felt her own heart race. She knew now.

"Because you’re in love with me."

Tara just nodded. "B-but then I saw the dark that w-wasn’t you…and it…" she frowned and ducked her head. "It was p-pulling at you…everywhere." And blue eyes found her own staring with trust and absolute love. "Because you’re everywhere. I mean…not just m-my everywhere, but really…everywhere."

Willow turned Tara’s words over in her mind trying not to get lost in the blue. Because this was important. And it had everything to do with staying here. And hanging on to Tara. But she couldn’t reach it. Not yet. She shook her head in frustration and her eyes fell on the books on the bed. "What do you know about it? The Heart?"

"Not much." Tara frowned and reached to pick up one of the tomes. "Just that it’s a…um, a d-demon device created by some kind of super witch to get a second chance to be with her lover."

"Oh." Willow swallowed loudly and felt her throat tighten. A second chance. She would have given anything…

"Is that w-why you…I mean, did you want a s-second chance… at something," the blonde asked softly staring into her eyes.

"Um," she began haltingly and then stopped. The tears were right there, waiting to spill out of her. "Buffy activated it…the device," she faltered. "So, um, not mine…the second chance."

They sat in silence for long moments and Willow let her hand fall from the blonde’s cheek to her hand. Tara slowly entwined their fingers and Willow felt the familiar surge at the contact.

Tara gasped and then met her eyes. "Then w-why are you here Willow? It’s…the H-heart is only meant for one p-person."

"I…" Willow began and then stopped, falling into the blue of Tara’s eyes that seemed to go on forever. Everything turning over in her mind in a maelstrom of possibilities and potentialities. But it wasn’t physics or magic, it was the sound of her name on Tara’s lips that meant more. The way it stopped everything. Like a spell. And that was familiar somehow. Second Chance. Tara. The Heart. Magic and time. And Tara had said she was everywhere….

_My energy is everywhere and the Heart controls reality. Bends time. And I tried to stop it with magic._

"I…I think I get it now," she began and took the blonde’s other hand in her own. "Or at least some of it." And she felt the familiar, beautiful rush and flight of something she hadn’t experienced in months in the real now. Not since that moment in their bedroom.

Hope. The thing with feathers.

"Tara I think I’m controlling the Heart."

****

_"… I think I’m controlling the Heart."_

Tara frowned and stared down at her hands. Not the reaction Willow was hoping for. Then again, why would she want her tainted energy in this body when she could have the real thing? The old Willow.

Slender fingers began to gently play with her own, circling and stroking her hands as the pale brow furrowed in concentration. As if she was reading her palm, but no. She knew this face. Tara was trying to find a way to tell her something important. Working toward the explanation that would cause Willow the least pain. She felt her heart break at the familiar sight. This miracle that kept recreating itself over and over with every second. Tara alive. And the new thing. Hope.

"S-so you’re like., a r-really powerful, um, witch?" the blonde raised her eyes tentatively to meet Willow’s. "I mean, in the…uh, the f-future?" There was no smile. And she remembered their first argument before Glory. Tara’s fear that Willow was growing too powerful. A fear that had proved to be well-founded. She grimaced at the memory. Not a shining moment in the history of Willow Rosenburg. Had it started this early? Tara’s fears about her magic use?

Her forehead tightened as she tried to form her response. Carefully. But she couldn’t trust her mouth and brain to cooperate so she resigned herself to a meaningful nod. When she finally found the strength to look up Tara was biting her lip, staring out the window at the night sky with an unreadable expression.

"So, um, that’s g-good right? ‘Cause that’s wh-what you, uh…I mean…that’s what you w-wanted." The blonde closed her eyes painfully around the last word and turned back to her.

Willow found that she couldn’t meet those deep blue eyes and looked instead to their entwined hands. The long, slender fingers that tapered at the tips. ‘Witch fingers’ she had read somewhere once. A rueful smile played over her lips at the accurate description. Tara was the real witch. She had always understood implicitly about balance. Things that Willow had been forced to learn in one painful, destructive lesson after another.

"It’s what I thought I wanted…you know, the big magic."

Tara winced and nodded solemnly before looking down at their hands. "But ’t-terrible things….’" It wasn’t a question and Willow didn’t attempt an answer. Just nodded. There was a long silence that was finally broken by Tara’s long inhale.

"So, if you’re, um, controlling this d-device why don’t you just go b-back?" Suddenly blue eyes held her own, calm and clear and deep. "To me?" As tears clouded Willow’s vision, the features before her blurred and blended into an impressionistic watercolor of blues and peach, ash blonde and white.

There was so much she needed to tell her. She wanted to scream it all in a warning. To write it on the walls, tattoo it on pale skin so that it was never forgotten or ignored. But she couldn’t. Because she didn’t know enough yet. And if she had changed things so radically it wouldn’t matter anyway. It never had before. Things tended to get worse in Sunnydale. Not better.

"Tara I…" She croaked and pawed clumsily at her eyes to wipe the tears from her cheeks and realized that she didn’t have a voice to give herself away anyway. Cool fingers cupped her face gently and she looked up to find tear-filled eyes studying her carefully. Tara knew. Had probably known for some time. Willow couldn’t even protect her from the terrible knowledge of her own death.

"I’m s-so sorry." Strong hands held her face as Tara’s lips pressed against her eyelids, against the cool wet of the tears on her cheek. A loud moan of a sob ripped through her and she felt the magic shift within her. Her first impulse was to react against it with equal force, but she was stopped by the gentle touch of Tara’s mouth whispering against her forehead.

_No. This is…fighting back with magic is not of the good here. Tara knows something. She knew it before you even got here because…the books. Just let her find a way to tell you….to tell herself. _

_Listen to Tara. Let her…_

Willing her eyes open, she steadied herself around the woman in front of her. Forced everything within her to circle Tara, making her the new center of the universe.

Somehow they found each other through the magic and the grief. The wet heat of Tara’s mouth was on hers, salty with tears and sweet and her grief-filled moan was transformed into an utterance of total desperation and longing. "Tara I can’t lose you again," she managed between kisses and sobs. And then pulled away. They needed to research this problem. To find a way for her to harness the Heart’s power and stay here with Tara. That was the important thing because her rational brain kept arguing that she had changed the future already, but there was the stronger, deeper part of her that seemed to remember this. Knew that this had already happened. And that was impossible. She needed to know more so she could stop this terrible march to that room. "But.…but it’s okay. I can fix it ‘cause if I’m all controlling…"

But her love was silent., cutting her off with the light pressure of fingertips on her lips. Holding her gaze Tara carefully removed Willow’s t-shirt, tracing her collarbone with eyes and shaking fingers. The redhead shivered and felt her mouth open automatically in a question against cool fingertips. She watched in awed silence as blue eyes traveled over her body, studying her with cautious intensity. The fingertips were gone and she felt the cutting elastic of her bra slide away, an astonished shy smile forming on perfect ruby lips.

"I know this is probably not such a b-big, um, deal to you Willow, but…" then that lopsided smile and her eyes asking a silent azure question. Willow wasn’t sure what the question was, but she knew the answer. She nodded and felt timid fingers brush her right breast, felt the pull of Tara echo through every part of her gently taking charge of her. Closing her eyes, parting her lips with that light touch. "…this is all…" soft lips grazed her own. "I ever wanted." And then feathery press of lips and tongue and fingers on her skin pushing back the magic and the future. Making the now again in this room as Tara felt her way across and through Willow. It had been all about the desperate, heated density of reunion before in that other room, but this was moments that stretched into a long, liquid exploration of a start.

_Let Tara lead the way._

There was a burst of light and she opened her eyes to see the room erupt in a shower of tiny floating stars. Fairy lights, she thought absently as Tara’s smile deepened, her eyes dancing along with the tiny flames. But only for a moment.

And the Heart’s spell receded, pushed back by the molten circle of them. By Tara as she pulled her own shirt over her head, her eyes turning that dark new moon blue.

"Tara this is," she began in a hoarse whisper, but was silenced by the gentle, insistent press of Tara’s mouth on her own. And then lips soft and winged against her ear making her arch into a soft hand, her body trying to take flight.

"…this is the big magic …"

****

"Dawn!"

All she could think in the moment she heard the scream of her name was this is what it feels like to be an astronaut. Until her body fell from weightlessness into a heap on the unforgiving cemetery turf. Which Willow would have told her was a great lesson in gravity, but at this moment it was a hard lesson. And there was something harder under her. Hard and cold.

A sound like the tearing of metal brought her back to the moment. Why were things suddenly moving so fast? Her eyes traveled up what looked like two trunks of a red-barked tree and understood with sudden terror what the sound was. The demon above her was screaming as it clawed at a wooden stake protruding from its eye. It was…enormous. If this was Vra’al there was no exaggeration and very probably no hope for them. He was at least fifteen feet tall, stretching above her like a building.

The familiar thud and grunts of hand-to-hand combat brought her head around. Faith was struggling with two smaller demons that were covered in dull metallic scales. Battling to reach Dawn where she still lay on the ground. And Faith had no weapon.

"Dawn run!" Faith screamed as she blocked a terrible blow that brought her to her knees. But Dawn couldn’t move, frozen to the spot by the certain knowledge that the Slayer was going to die if she ran. They were too much for her and there were more coming, she could seem their strange lurching forms moving toward the clearing through the headstones and crypts. Struggling to reach her feet she felt the hard thing beneath her bite into her leg with stinging heat. The sword. She began to cry with relief as she struggled to free it from her own weight. But she didn’t know how to use it.

Rolling the grip in her hands she watched Faith complete a complicated series of kicks to bring herself between the demons and Dawn. Sucking in a deep breath Dawn closed her eyes and let go of all her fantasies of being the hero. She tossed the sword as hard as she could in Faith’s general direction and opened her eyes in time to watch the sword tilt and straighten into a silver arc heading straight for the Slayer’s back.

_Oh god!_

"Faith!" She covered her eyes with her hands so she wouldn’t have to see it.

_Oh my god! I killed Faith. I killed a Slayer. I stabbed her in the back and…_

Another metallic scream ripped through the night.

"Nice toss D." Dawn’s eyes flew open in time to watch one of the demons fall, impaled on the sword. Before it could hit the ground Faith wrenched the blade free and was whirling in a blur on the remaining demon. But there were more shadows approaching and she thought she could hear the oily flutter of leathery wings above her. There were too many.

"Run damnit!" Faith screamed again as she lunged at another demon and at the last moment defied the laws of gravity her body twisting to behead an approaching demon. Dawn knew she should run, but she couldn’t. Some strange part of her brain was talking to her. Telling her that if the Slayer was going to die here someone should see it. She shouldn’t die alone. And then her eyes fell on the familiar dark silhouette of Spike still pinned to the trunk of the tree. She was on her feet in a moment, crossing the distance in long strides.

Spike was struggling against the stake in his chest, his eyes wild as he surveyed the demons around them. He clawed at the wooden spike in his chest, but it was slick with blood and he couldn’t seem to get any leverage, flailing against the tree as his fingers slipped over the butt of the stake. She knew she should leave him there or stake him herself for everything he had done, but they needed him now. Why did it always seem to work out that way?

"Get out of here!" he growled.

"Make me!" she yelled through tears and looked around for anything that could help, but there was nothing. Just demons and headstones. She turned back to watch his feet kick against the narrow trunk of the tree. A sudden inspiration made her drop to all fours.

"What the…"

"Stand on my back," she yelled over the metallic screams around her and crawled beneath his feet. There was a moment when she was sure this was a ridiculous idea, that she had just dropped to all fours in the middle of a demon battle to be beheaded or worse. And then Spike’s full weight was pressing down on her, his boots hard and cold against her spine. She gritted her teeth and felt him shift several times and then a quick, agonized yell as his weight lurched forward and off of her.

Strong hands yanked her to her feet and she found herself staring at the wound in his chest. So close. Faith must have pulled back only at the last moment. A millimeter of error and Spike would have been dust. She looked up into ‘game face’ and cringed.

_Never forget he’s a vampire._ Xander’s warning rang in her head as yellow, reptilian eyes met her own.

"Stay here," he commanded and pushed her against the tree.

"Motherfuckers!" Faith’s battle cry was primal. "You are so gonna fucking die!" The Dark Slayer, smiling and covered in blood, ducked and blocked a blow from one demon before whirling with inhuman speed to decapitate another. And the sword was suddenly, impossibly in her other hand, jerking back to impale a third as she landed a solid kick to the head of another.

"Bloody hell," Spike murmured appreciatively and the teenager just nodded. This was so not Buffy. Buffy was elegant and choreographed when she fought. Even when she was slaying she seemed to be following some kind of rulebook on proper behavior, fighting with perfect posture. Hitting with robotic precision. But Faith was…wild. Unrestrained.

_Too bad you can’t get extra credit for PSAT vocab words used in the heat of battle. _

And that was the strange thing because for the heat of battle it was awfully quiet. The only sounds were Faith’s incessant yells and the clang and thud of the sword. The demons, for all their apparent organization didn’t seem to be saying a thing.

_What’s up with that?_

With a low growl Spike launched himself at a demon bearing down on them. As they began to trade blows, Dawn again searched for anything that might help. There had been an axe. Where was it?

As her eyes scanned the surreal scene before her she was inevitably drawn to the enormous figure of the demon who had grabbed her in the first place. He stood still at the far edge of the clearing with his arms crossed and the skin of his head seemed to be alive, shifting and changing. She squinted into the darkness and realized with a gasp what she was seeing. His skin wasn’t moving, it was covered in what looked like giant reptilian bats. Their clawed hands worked at his wound, pulling at the stake, black tongues licking away the blood.

"Ew!" She looked away quickly, her eyes landing on the silver glint of the axe blade in the grass. It was easily fifteen yards away through the thick of the battle. She heard Faith’s eerie howl again and wondered if the Slayer could stop herself if Dawn got in the way. Spike was struggling with another demon to her right and losing. His only weapon the blood-covered stake. She had no choice. But she couldn’t seem to move.

_‘cause, hello! You are not a Slayer. You are just some stupid girl who used to be a Key and you are going to get very dead if you go out there._

_But Faith’s going to die…_

Inhaling deeply she searched for anything to calm her, wishing suddenly that she knew a prayer. Any kind of prayer. Buddhist, Jewish, Wiccan, whatever. But she didn’t. All she knew were the few spells that Tara had taught her and that disturbing rhyming thing she had learned from her grandmother --- "Now I lay me down to sleep…" --- which ended up in a scary place so… big no to that.

But Tara. The image of the smiling blonde brought a smile to her face. And somehow, impossibly, in the middle of a raging battle she felt calm. Maybe she did know a prayer after all.

It took her almost thirty seconds to pick her way around the edge of the fray. Ducking and sometimes crawling and generally trying to stay as invisible as possible. She was used to that — the invisible thing — it was only when she tried to be noticed that she got into trouble.

She had to crawl the last ten feet ducking as a demon arm as it flew past her head to land with a thud near her. Well, that could be a weapon if she really needed one. But…_yuck._

The wooden handle of the axe was so close. Crawling quickly she held it’s slick grip in her hands and leaned back on her heels. There were too many demons between her and Spike now. A hissing sound to her right brought her to her feet. A demon and it was too close now for her to run. She remembered Faith’s instructions and swung. Maybe she could hit something. Anything. An arm or a leg and the Slayer could help her. But the axe met no resistance. She had missed. It’s weight and momentum swept her around in a dizzying off-balance twirl until it connected with something…hard. The impact jarring her with such severity that she yelped in pain. The axe was torn from her grasp as the demon fell to earth with the blade buried in its side.

Dawn rubbed her hands on her jeans trying to wipe away some of the pain and numbness. Her hands felt as if they had been stung…by a really big bee. The demon was still twitching on the ground, but he didn’t seem too dangerous so she closed her eyes and gripped the handle to free the blade. It wouldn’t budge, caught on metallic scales. Blowing her hair out of her face she tugged again and felt it jerk free.

"D! Down now!" Without bothering to breathe, Dawn dropped. She felt as much as heard the whisper of metal slip past her left ear. Something very heavy fell over her pinning the axe underneath her body.

It took her a few seconds to free herself from the demon’s weight. As she pulled herself free she heard Faith’s howl again, but it wasn’t a battle cry this time. It was pain. She turned to see the Slayer’s face twisted in agony, one hand covering a terrible gash in her left shoulder.

"Okay, now I’m pissed," she hissed and struck out with a roundhouse that sent one demon flying into another.

"Faith!" Dawn screamed and tossed the axe, careful this time to throw it in a high arc, handle down. As she watched its flight, mesmerized by its lazy progress, time seemed to slow. The Slayer’s eyes swept quickly over the battlefield and an evil smile crossed her features. With a wink for Dawn time sped up again. Faith didn’t seem to even make contact with the axe handle, lunging and rolling to redirect its path, adding her own energy to hurl it sideways through the necks of two demons and halfway through a third.

Dawn wanted to scream with joy, but Faith was already fighting another demon, her crippled arm held against her body. The wound was terrible. Dawn could see bone through the streaming blood and her stomach clenched violently, but the Slayer defied her own injury as she rolled to free the sword and lunged to kill a demon that had crept up behind Dawn. Faith stood before her now, taking in the overwhelming number of the demons. There seemed to be an endless supply of them as they moved to encircle the two women. For every one they killed another took its place.

She felt something warm trickle down the side of her right hand and noticed with growing detachment that her shirt sleeve was sliced in a line across her shoulder. _The axe must have cut me when I fell on it,_ she thought absently and felt Faith take her hand in her own, their blood mingling as she squeezed gently.

_Guess that means we’re blood sisters._

Faith turned to Dawn finally with a sad smile.

‘"See ya Half Pint." Another wink and she streaked away, her inhuman howl causing a ripple of agitation in the crowd of demons. The sword blade swinging in mad, fierce arcs. Dawn looked toward the axe, but it was too far away. Too many demons between her decidedly non-Slayer body and the weapon. Another hiss beside her and she knew it was over. The distance between herself and Faith was too large and the Slayer was currently overwhelmed by four demons. She put her fists up and wondered how it was going to feel when the hard scales hit her.

_Duh, it’s going to hurt. A lot._

There was a terrible sharp pain and pressure in her neck and strong hands holding her still. The world swam before her eyes and her knees gave way, but she was held upright.

Everything was suddenly silent. She worried that she had gone deaf, but there was still the sound of the Slayer grunting as she decapitated another demon before slowly winding down to take in the eerie scene. The demons, the trees, everything had gone completely still.

"I’ll drain her dry before you wankers can take a step," Spike growled close to her ear. "There won’t be enough blood left to open a portal for a doormouse much less you and your fan club."

There was a moment of sheer terror but it passed and Dawn grew very calm in the vampire’s grip. Everything seemed so clear, her vision tunneling down to one thing — Faith. As she hung limp in the vampire’s arms she felt as if a connection was opening between herself and the Slayer. Like a portal…sort of. She watched dark eyes scan the scene, brows furrowing and felt it. Saw it. The world of the cemetery was suddenly crisp, everything was brighter and more clearly defined. But it wasn’t just vision, she could feel the demons around her like tactile colors that were different than the trees and the cold stones. Could feel the sword, weightless in the Slayer's grip, like an extension of her arm.

And suddenly she was just Dawn again. Watching the Slayer as she held the shining blade at the proper angle, ready to strike. She saw the wounds, scores of them deep and jagged. A deep cut on the Faith’s forehead that caused her to constantly wipe at her eye to clear her vision. When those eyes reached Dawn she saw the flash of fury and something else. Terror. For her.

She started to cry immediately, but not because of sadness. It was joy, overwhelming joy. Faith — cold, hard, tough girl Faith — actually cared whether she died or lived. And not because she was a fucking Key.

_It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt me. Well, he already hurt me, but not that bad. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…_

She realized it was Tara’s voice she was hearing over and over again in her mind. A mantra for calm. But it wasn’t for her.

Faith’s forehead tightened in confusion as she stared at the teenager. Then everything just…opened. The space between herself and Faith. And she was hit with all of it at once. Images and pieces of a different life. A life full of fear and fury and the constant always threat of violence from everyone. And worse, something terrible and all-too familiar. Desperate loneliness. She gasped and heard an answering intake of breath from Faith.

"Slayer?" Spike mumbled into the teenager’s neck. Faith composed herself in an instant and nodded with a grimace before turning to back toward them slowly.

"You would eat a thing as valuable as the Key?" the demon asked in a low, booming voice.

"She’s not a ‘thing’ you uglyass excuse for a…"

"You bet your ass I would," Spike interjected and Dawn shuddered as his teeth grazed the wound on her neck. "Tasty lil’ bird like this is just too good to pass up."

She heard Faith’s deep growl, but the Slayer held firm.

" The Heart is mine, Slayer. It was stolen from me and I will have it returned. You will release it and the Key to me by dawn or…"

"Whatever," Faith rolled her eyes and turned her back on the demon horde. "A hell god couldn’t pull it off, but One-eyed Jack here thinks he’s gonna take the Key from a Slayer." She shook her head and walked behind them. "Call me when someone buys you a fucking clue."

Dawn felt the earth fall away again as Spike swept her into his arms. Everything kept shifting in dizzying waves, but she kept her focus on the dark form of the Slayer up ahead and felt everything else just…fade away.


	7. Chapter 7

Willow drifted slowly out of sleep. The familiar smell of Tara’s room surrounded her and she knew without looking that she was still there. And…even better…she was naked with the sheet twisted around her legs and that wonderful, languid feeling that only hours of sex with Tara could impart. But there was no one in the bed with her, which was not so better. The clock read 3:13, so she hadn’t been asleep long. Maybe a half hour. But why was Tara up and not snuggled around her?

"Mmmm, where’s my Tare Bear?" The redhead stretched and yawned, rising to her knees to scan the room. She felt amazing. Tired and dizzy and maybe even a little queasy, but totally, completely amazing. The blonde sat cross-legged on the floor poring over a book in her lap. She had clothes on, which was a big disappointment. She looked up at the sound of Willow’s voice and froze, her eyes widening, mouth dropping open as blue eyes roamed over the redhead’s exposed torso. Tara swallowed once and looked away, ducking her head shyly, a crimson blush extending all the way to the tips of her ears.

"I…um, uh, T-Tare Bear?" she squeaked and turned a page in the tome, stealing another quick glance at Willow. She would have to remember that. All of the private jokes and names between them that weren’t anymore.

"Yeah, kind of a pet…" Willow trailed off with a concerned frown and moved toward the blonde. "…name is everything okay?"

"Oh yeah!" Tara nodded emphatically, her eyes falling on the redhead before closing slowly. "I, um," she swallowed and ran a shaky hand through her hair. "It’s just…um…you know," the blonde continued to struggle and Willow found herself growing anxious. Had Tara found something? Had she seen something in Willow’s aura too terrible to speak of? "I mean…" she sucked in an enormous whimpering breath and opened her eyes. "N-naked, um …Willow?" Blue eyes drifted down before darting away again guiltily and the redhead resisted the urge to laugh, but she couldn’t suppress the enormous grin. Tara was so adorably…adorable. How was it possible that this woman could step so effortlessly between sultry vixen and total cute-itude? "Like g-gym class…y-you know?" she asked with a pleading look in her eyes as if she was begging for a reprieve from further explanation. It took the redhead only a moment to connect the dots. The terror of changing for gym, surrounded by all those scantily clad girls, afraid to look. Afraid they’d catch you looking and humiliate you. Again.

"Well, in this gym class you can stare as much as you want Ms. Maclay, but, um, I think I’m being denied the all-important reciprocal stare-iness by too many clothes on you," Willow replied fingering the blonde’s tank top suggestively.

"Oh…I…um," blue eyes stared back at her wide and blinking and she wasn’t sure it was possible, but Tara somehow managed to turn an even deeper shade of red. "Naked..and um..re-s-search?"

"Yeah, you’re probably right," she sighed and moved to sit behind the blonde, wrapping her arms around soft curves, her legs extended to rest under bent knees. "Could get kind of," she paused to kiss the soft skin behind one ear and felt Tara tense and gasp. "Distracting."

A cool hand fell from the page onto the redhead’s exposed thigh and the blonde jumped in her arms. "Oh, s-sorry… I…um…." Tara gave up on whatever she was trying to say with a loud sigh and Willow smiled into the smooth skin of an exposed shoulder.

"Watcha looking for?" she asked playfully, letting her eyes drop to the page below.

Another long sigh. "It’s a, um, a…d-div…"

"Divination spell," Willow finished for her, all of the levity and teasing gone from her voice. She knew this spell. Intimately. It stood out like a bookmark in her life. She had cast it in secret to map Glory and Tara’s essences. To undo what the hell god had done to the beautiful girl in her arms. And in casting it she had seen into some of the torment Glory had inflicted on Tara. Terrible things. Unspeakable things that they had never managed to discuss afterward. And that knowledge had been one of the reasons for her slip into dark magic. Because she would do anything to protect the blonde from more harm. "I know this spell," she finished quietly and kissed a bare shoulder, her expression growing stern. A wall of vertigo hit her with force and she closed her eyes, letting it roll over her in nauseating waves. Letting her head drop against the strong back before her.

"I thought we c-could use it to understand what’s happening…with your m-magic and the, um, the Heart."

She didn’t notice, Willow thought with a grateful sigh. She didn’t want to worry Tara any more than she had to. Recovering her precarious sense of balance she moved her lips over exposed skin letting the familiar smell right the world.

"Willow?" Right. The divination spell. It was too powerful. She had almost lost herself in it in her search for Tara. It was too dangerous. And casting with Tara was…In a terrible rush of images she remembered with humiliation and overwhelming self-loathing the last two times she had cast with the blonde. The resurrection and the spell to make Buffy’s ‘hitchiker’ tangible. Her impatience and growing arrogance had made her unwilling to wait for the spell to build. She cringed as she remembered reaching out to the dark magic, taking the terrible short cut offered and breaking her precious connection with Tara. It was inconceivable to her now and it remained simply unforgivable. The memory of it left her more ashamed than any of her actions after Tara’s death. Those ‘terrible things’ had been a reaction to tragic events, the results of grief and furious agony. Severing her connection to Tara had been a willful and selfish act of betrayal. And in a moment of sudden clarity she realized here with Tara in her arms that it had been the darkest magic imaginable.

Ruth had told her she would find the root of her darkness in the small things. In the excuses and rationalizations. In everyday acts. Because she would always find a reason. There would always be a need so great…especially on the Hellmouth.

"I don’t think… Tar, it’s…it’s too dangerous," she murmured into bare skin and hugged the blonde tighter.

Warm fingers caressed her own for a moment and then withdrew slowly as the blonde removed the book from her lap to turn in Willow’s arms. "But you said we’d c-cast it before," she said with obvious confusion.

She reached out to trace the perfect curve of lips to steady herself. "I said I knew the spell." She sighed and looked away from the blue. "I cast it without you."

The look of astonishment on Tara’s face changed quickly to one of confused concern. "But wh-why…h-how…?" she trailed off and searched green eyes for an answer.

"Well, the why was…terrible things," she repeated and the muscles in her jaw clenched uncomfortably. "And the how," she shook her head sadly. "I don’t even know…I mean, probably just total desperation and that trademark Willow Rosenburg hard-headedness I guess?" She winced at the memory of the terror that had gripped her when she had momentarily lost her way, lost her connection to the real. It wasn’t the knowledge that she would die that had finally brought her back, it was the horror of knowing that Tara would be trapped with Glory forever. "I know it was crazy…"

"Not crazy…impossible was more the w-word I was looking for," Tara replied shaking her head in amazement and more than a little anger. "How did you get b-back?"

Without me as your anchor were the unspoken words in the blonde’s question and Willow winced.

"I, um, modified Ms. Calendar’s curse so it was timed to certain biological triggers and used an Orb of Thessela as a kind of spiritual magnet to make sure…"

"What?" Tara was clearly horrified by the admission.

"I know it was stupid, but…"

"Willow, you could have been trapped in that orb forever or…w-worse."

Willow nodded her assent and closed her eyes. She had been so proud of her ingenuity at the time. Hours and hours of research and clandestine experimentation. And she had been so terribly desperate. "I know Tara," she kept her voice as calm and soft as possible, reaching out to take the blonde’s hands in her own. "And believe me, I would never, ever do that now. It was just…" How could she explain the events that had led to her reckless behavior?

Blue eyes searched her own for long moments and then closed slowly. "I know you wouldn’t…now." She shook her head slowly and a line formed between the perfect arches of pale eyebrows. "I j-just…I wanted to sh-show you about magic…the right w-way you know? The good parts and the really b-bad, but…"

"It’s not your fault Tara," she interjected gently and squeezed the blonde’s hands in her own. "Really." The blonde retreated behind her hair, her thumb slowly circling the back of Willow’s hand.

"Sweetie we need to do this." Blue eyes met her own again and Willow’s forehead tightened in response. How could she explain? Because she knew that as much control as she now had over her magic, the moment she sensed Tara was in danger she would stop at nothing to save her. She would protect her love at any cost. "Because it’s h-hurting you…the Heart’s s-sp…um, magic."

Gentle fingers moved over her scalp and Willow released a deep sigh. How did Tara know about the pain? She allowed herself a small smile at the thought of the two of them moving along separate paths to protect each other. And she knew now how much more painful it was to watch the one you love suffer. The idea of the blonde feeling the slightest pain or discomfort made her own seem insignificant. She squeezed Tara’s hand gently and stared directly into blue eyes.

"Okay, but if anything and I mean anything of the dark variety happens when we’re in there…or out there,,," she mused out loud trying to decide which description was more accurate.

"It won’t," Tara said flatly a gentle smile playing on her lips. "I trust you Willow. I know you’d never hurt me."

Willow felt her throat constrict and swallowed hard before looking away from the blue gaze. There was so much she needed to tell her. So much that she needed to confess.

"I trust you." She heard Tara say again and felt her stomach turn over with a sudden realization. This Tara could trust the Willow she was now with everything. She would die before she would allow anything to happen to her. And wasn’t what this was all about? A second chance?

For Buffy, she reminded herself. But maybe she could build her own second chance around it. In a way she already was. Maybe. But one way or another, she would have these brand new moments with Tara forever. If the Slayer’s second chance didn’t change everything.

Buffy.

"Buffy?"

Willow frowned at her slip. After years of struggle she had finally managed to get her habit of speaking her thoughts aloud under control, but not tonight. Not with Tara. It was quite possible that she hadn’t said it out loud at all.

"Yeah, it’s just that it’s her second chance so I’m probably going back to a future where Angel’s all human or she’s still dead or…who knows?" she stopped her angry rant abruptly. That had been a major slip. Tara’s forehead was now furrowed with concern and surprise. "Sorry. Too much information…"

The blonde shook her head slowly and appraised her with concern and obvious confusion. "No, it’s okay I just…I mean," she stopped to collect her thoughts and frowned in concentration. "You know, she’s like your hero…and you’re b-best friends."

"Well, things have kind of changed a lot and Buffy…well, she most definitely has…changed that is. She’s…I mean we’re…." And she felt guilty suddenly for even considering speaking about her best friend this way. Buffy had been through so much. And so much of it was because of her.

"Don’t you t-trust her to do the right thing…with her s-second chance?"

Willow sat staring into blue eyes for what seemed like long minutes, but was probably only a few short seconds. No one had asked her if she trusted Buffy and the thought had never crossed her mind. Not once. Her focus and everyone else’s had been on her own recovery. On regaining control of herself and the trust of her friends. She had never considered how she felt about them. Buffy had been so self-involved and distant for so long she had begun to take it for granted. She had forgotten about the friend this Willow had known. The friend and partner who still took her on patrol in this now. Who still went out for mochas and sat up trading stories about Riley and Oz and…everything. She had trusted this Buffy with her life, with the world. But now….

"I don’t know, but I do know I trust you Tara," she finally responded looking up to meet her eyes again. "More than I trust myself."

A lop-sided grin slowly spread over perfect pale features and Tara ducked her head shyly, embarrassed by the candid admission. Willow leaned across the small space between them and stole a quick kiss that brought another deep blush to the blonde’s face.

"So, um, I’ll g-get the, uh, the herbs and you…" Tara glanced at the redhead’s chest before quickly looking away. "M-maybe you should, ah, get d-d-dr…should put some c-clothes on?"

"No, I’m fine, really." Willow responded playfully with a smug smile. "Comfy even." Tara squirmed under her gaze and seemed to find the bookshelf to her left extremely interesting.

"But that c-could get kinda distracting."

"What?" She asked with exaggerated innocence.

The blonde’s head tilted to the side, a look of total exasperation clouding her features. "Willow I know you’re used to th-this, but…"

"Sorry Tar. I’ll get dressed if you want." She smoothed blonde hair behind one ear to soothe her and traced Tara’s jaw lightly. "It’s just been my experience…and yours by the way… that we’re just going to end up this way anyway. After the spell. ‘Cause you know, me and you and all that magical sexy energy floating around leads to not so many clothes on us. So this is really just me being all efficient." She swallowed hard at the memory of their post-spell ‘rituals’. "Really."

Blue eyes studied her with more than a little doubt and then a mischievous grin crossed the blonde’s features. In one motion she pulled the tank top over her head and rose to remove her underwear in a long, seductive slide of hands over thighs.

"Skyclad it is then," the blonde said with a smirk and turned to retrieve the necessary ingredients.

Willow sat speechless watching Tara search through drawers and bags for the herbs and materials they would need. Her hair wasn’t as long as the Tara Willow held in her memory and the blonde tresses still held the evidence of her bleach experiment months before. She looked so young and beautiful kneeling naked before her desk. This level of comfort and intimacy had taken many months in their previous relationship and by then Tara was a different person. This was a new Tara, innocent and surprisingly confident and watching her Willow felt suddenly shy, her face burning with heat. As the blonde turned and obviously fought the urge to cover herself with her arms, Willow averted her eyes and swallowed hard. Gym class indeed.

When the circle had been drawn and the herbs mixed, the two sat cross-legged nervously avoiding each other’s eyes. She had expected this to be so easy and familiar, but it wasn’t. And sitting there facing her with all of that naked skin between them she wasn’t sure she would be able to control her desire long enough to complete the spell.

Tara gently took the redhead’s hands in her own and Willow panicked, worried that she would never remember the words of the spell. Or worse, that she would remember her own hacked together version. Her eyes drifted to blue and she felt a familiar calm descend. This was so right. All of it. The incredible sexual tension that they had secretly joked about as the ‘secret ingredient’ in their particularly powerful brand of magic, the hands clasped together, and the two of them in a circle. Together. The blonde shyly anointed her with oil and offered the bowl to the redhead to return the gesture. She smiled and dipped her thumb into the warm liquid. Tara knew the incantation, which meant she did too. There was no need to worry.

Tara knows. Let go and let her lead…

Their eyes locked and she felt the familiar surge as the blonde reached out to her, making the connection. Tara’s energy flowed into her and through her and she felt herself speaking the words of the incantation, going through the ritual motions from far away. All that really mattered was Tara. And the building energy around them so familiar and strong and…kinda hot. She smiled and felt as much as saw an answering grin on the blonde’s face.

So right…

And suddenly the physical was just…gone. Willow was no longer in the room. Moving through layers of energy, she expanded up and out to the place Tara and the text would describe as the Nether Realms, but her scientifically inclined mind always interpreted as some kind of higher dimensional space.

Okay, stop it Rosenburg! Stop with the analyzing and just…do the Tara thing. She would have smiled at herself if she had a face to smile with.

Letting go, she began to explore the world around her. An endless amorphous field full of shifting energies that disappeared and reformed in the shape of familiar objects. Her home, the Summers’ house, a classroom at UC Sunnydale. She felt a presence beside her and turned to find Tara smiling gently. It was like turning in a dream to search for that presence that was always there just out of sight. And it was Tara of course. She knew the expression intimately. It was patience and trust and…more than a little arousal. There would be no losing herself in this divination. She had every reason to go back.

But now she was research girl with a job to do, so she centered herself carefully and began to study the space. It was tricky here to remember who you were, much less what you were doing. Like in a dream, intent tended to shift with the scenery. It took incredible focus and Willow slowly found hers and began to travel, trying to map out the place. Travel here was a useless term. You imagined yourself in a place and concentrated and the place or the person were brought to you. But she needed to know about the space itself so she concentrated on travelling as far as possible in a straight line.

She felt the rush and blue of movement, saw images rush past and felt Tara’s surprise and fear as the distance between them grew. With great effort, she soothed her through the connection they still shared and felt the familiar pang of desire.

And then in a rush she was there, approaching Tara fast from behind. Which confirmed at least one of her theories. That this was a self-contained universe. A bubble. But for the real answers she needed to go deeper. Farther. She turned to Tara and let her feel her intention. The blonde’s gentle concern washed over her and she felt again the strong tug of want.

Okay, finish this so you can get back and get to the snuggles already!

Willow began a monotonous chant and kept the Heart in her mind’s eye. Focusing on its energy, the stretch and feel of the magic that had brought them here. It swept her up in terrifying rush of energies. Because there were more than one and she could feel her own and the device’s and something else. Something familiar…

Another ‘earthquake’ tore through her and she watched horrified as a thin stream of energy was drawn out of her into the screaming swirl. And with a searing cold pain her connection to Tara was broken. She felt a suffocating compression and realized that the entire universe was breathing. Expanding and shrinking in broken, erratic intervals, like it was trying to collapse, but was held up by…

…me. My energy. Something is borrowing my energy.

And she could feel the gravity of other bubbles, other universes as they pulled at this one. Touching at points, merging to create new colors that swirled in energy clouds of time and space.

She panicked for a moment, her attention faltering as she drifted along without anchor. Because it had a sort of terrible, compelling beauty to it and it called to her moving her farther and farther from herself. She could see now the way to control it. The places where the darkness of the device’s spell and her own darkness meshed and mingled. It would be so easy to insinuate herself into the dark and seemingly endless power of the Heart and…

There was something important she had to remember….

The connection. Tara.

She felt the slight familiar tug of something warm and understood what that other energy was. Everywhere. Tara. Her mind regained focus and she thought back to the blonde’s halting description of Willow’s omnipresence. Maybe that had been the problem in the future. She had been looking for Tara in the wrong places back in the real now. Searching for her in the specific and the separate when she was everywhere at once.

Before letting go she used a small but excruciating amount of energy to create a ‘map’ of what she had seen. A map she could take back to the real.

The warmth moved through her, pulling her back through layers of energy and space. Images of the past and the possible future flicked through her consciousness. She wanted to stay and capture them all. Study them for clues to the right future. The future with Tara in it. But there was an undeniable force pulling her back with strong hands that spoke to a place deep within her. That place that didn’t need words or reason. That only Tara could open.

She gasped back into consciousness still chanting to find the blonde above her staring down at her with eyes full of concern and…she smiled…almost black with need.

"Are you okay?"

A quick glance past blonde hair revealed a slowly spinning hologram hovering just above Tara’s left shoulder. The spell and her own magic mapped out in swirling colors.

She could only nod as she brought her leaden arms up to encircle the blonde and bring her naked body down to hers.

"Willow," I need you. Now.

It wasn’t spoken but she heard it anyway. And Tara was already inside her and she was inside Tara and this was just the completion of something that had begun outside of time. Spiritual becoming physical and back again.

Spiritual is definitely all of the good, she thought with a smile and reached up to bring her mouth to Tara’s. As the slide and heat of their bodies increased, their mouths moving over each other in wide-open unspoken phrases all she could think was…

But physical is…with Tara…just wow.

****

**Part XIII**

She woke to the light sounds of snoring. Which was…kind of odd. The room was still dark, but she could make out the faint outline of her mother’s sleeping form next to her, the fuzzy pink of a wash cloth still covering her eyes.

_The headaches…Mom…and that device. This is all wrong. But Mom…_

For several minutes she listened to her mother’s regular breathing, watched her chest rise and fall under the blanket. Her mother was alive here and now. But for how long? She began to do the mental math, growing more and more desperate as she ticked away the months until Dawn’s appearance. Until her mother’s body on the couch.

_Don’t go there. Remember what mom said. Concentrate on making things right… here. Now._

The Slayer inside was growing restless and she knew that soon her need for release would become undeniable. Her fear rousing the sleeping beast within making her heart race, her muscles tense. With a loud sigh she gave up on sleep altogether and checked the clock. 4:52. At least that was normal. She hadn’t been able to sleep through the night in years. Especially since Willow had brought her back. Yanked her back.

Gently extricating herself from the covers so as not to wake her mother, Buffy quietly walked to her room to dress, making a mental plan.

First would be slaying because she needed to quiet the beast. Then Willow. They needed some sort of plan to get them back. Maybe her dream would help. And it was possible that the witches had found something useful already. If not, her next stop would be Giles. That was a last resort because there was too much she couldn’t tell him. Too much she was tempted to tell him so that he would change things. For her. So she wouldn’t have to. Then back home to spend more time with Mom. After penning a quick note to her mother, she wrote ‘muffins and coffee’ in blue ink on her hand hoping to be back in time to surprise her with breakfast.

For some reason she opened the window and crawled through to make the short jump down to the ground. Just like high school. If nothing else it definitely brought a smile to her face. Plus the physicality of it did a little toward calming the Slayer side of things.

And she was walking toward the cemetery, like she did every night, her subconscious sifting through the sensory information rolling in. Cataloging the interesting bits, flagging down the inevitable supernatural flare. But it was too small, too all-over-the-place to be a threat. Her adversaries tended to be of the highly localized variety as Willow used to put it. She had never gotten the joke until that moment and felt guilty suddenly and more than a little stupid for the vacuous stare that had almost definitely met the hacker’s attempt at humor. But she had always felt sort of mentally challenged around her best friend.

The dream image of a younger Willow suddenly filled her mind. Those black eyes set in innocent features excitedly floating a pencil. With a shiver she noticed that the image had stopped her dead in the middle of one of the cemetery’s many footpaths. What did it mean?

"Well, lookie, lookie what we have here." The slight lisp caused by a tongue against brand new fangs would have given him away even without the now clanging alarm of her internal vampire sense. "A tasty little treat."

Buffy’s eyes rolled involuntarily as she turned to confront a former frat boy with one of the thickest necks she had ever seen. Well, that explained it. A neck that size must be irresistible to someone with a serious neck fetish. As she sized him up and worked out the best comeback her brain cycled through possible fight plans. One flick of her wrist and she could stake him from here, but that wouldn’t be fun. She needed a fight tonight. The release would help her concentrate on solving the riddle of the dream and the spell and…everything.

But this vamp was big. And dumb. _And he kind of looks like Riley…Riley on serious steroids. But still…definitely big and that could get dangerous so…_

"And blonde too." He licked his lips. "I like blondes."

Buffy shook her head and regarded him coolly as he stepped toward her. "Well, you know what they say…." Fratvamp lunged surprising her and caught her jacket lapel in one hand. In one graceful movement the Slayer grabbed his sweatshirt and dropped, using her weight to drag him down so that she could kick him easily up and over her head into a tombstone. It would have been a paralyzing back-breaking blow to anyone but a vampire.

The former frat boy shook his head and glared at her with confusion and growing frustration. "Aw come on. Why are you fighting this? I promise you’ll like it," he said with a smooth smile, stalking toward her menacingly.

"You didn’t let me finish my joke. See, they say," she began again only to be interrupted by a clumsy attempt at a left hook. Ducking quickly the Slayer hit him with a well-rehearsed kick to the groin and a combination to his thick neck. Within seconds the vamp was on his knees before her staring up in shock. "…blondes have more fun," she continued, burying the stake in his chest. "Dusting your mouth-breathing ass."

With more than a little disappointment she quickly surveyed the area to find herself alone. No vampire action anywhere nearby. And frat vamp hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy her. Maybe there was some action at the cemetery on Dimas.

Tucking the stake into her jacket she began a brisk walk in that general direction, her mind returning immediately to the dream images. There were answers there if she could just figure it out…in time. But her dreams were always hellishly confusing until after the fact. But that was the way it was with everything wasn't it? So clear in hindsight.

Walking purposefully on the uneven pavement she was surprised to find herself in front of the hospital. Nowhere near the cemetery and no recollection of actually travelling there. Images from the dream suddenly overwhelmed her: Dawn comatose in a hospital bed, Faith and something about talking underwater…

It was way past visiting hours, but sneaking past the orderlies and nurses proved to be no challenge. Most were dosing away the time or busily engaged in hospital paperwork. A quick look over a sleeping nurse’s shoulder at a computer screen gave her the room number and she began her stealthy descent into the hospital’s basement, her nose crinkling at the smell of disinfectant and…something musty. Like a house no one had lived in for years.

_Does anyone ever come down here?_

She entered the room without thinking, so focused on her mission that she hadn’t imagined the numbing terror of actually being there. With Faith. Who was lying helpless and vulnerable under a white sheet in this horrible room with its peeling gray paint and the choking smell of mildew.

And there were all the familiar feelings. The anger and heat that the other Slayer seemed to pull out of her. The hurt and betrayal that engulfed her like a spell. It was all there, but the sight of the Slayer lying there…she was just a girl. Like Dawn or even…

_…me._

And all of that anger and hurt wrapped around itself becoming a thing that she could finally get both hands around. And put aside. Where it finally looked like…guilt.

Buffy swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced herself to look at the other Slayer. The flimsy, stained hospital gown and yellowing sheets. Her pale skin, even whiter now after months away from the sun.

_Like a vampire_, she thought with a shudder that brought back the encounter that had lead to this place. Faith fighting Buffy for her life… And that brought the other side of her into play. The inner voice that spoke in rationalizations and blame. It was talking to her now about the body switch and Angel and everything that the dark Slayer had done to hurt her, but all she could see were the dark circles and dry, chapped lips. How did this broken girl manage to fight her in the Quad?

Chapped lips. She realized that she had never seen Faith without her trademark dark lipstick. War paint, she thought with a smile. Took on a whole new meaning…

_Why am I even here? This is ridiculous. _

And there were two solutions here. Two ways to stop the terrible spiral between them. Killing her was the obvious first answer. No one would know and they certainly wouldn’t care. And she was evil. She could feel all of the terrible past with Faith building inside her into a yell of righteous anger.

But…chapped lips. There was something so heartbreakingly and infuriatingly vulnerable about those damn chapped lips. The lips of a little kid out in the wind and the weather too long. As she studied Faith’s features, the dark Slayer’s forehead furrowed and she let out a low whimper, her eyes flicking rapidly under dark lids. A nightmare. She wondered suddenly if Faith had the same surreal prophetic dreams. If she was in the middle of an eight month long one now.

Another low whimper and she couldn’t help herself. "Faith," she said softly and the whimpering stopped. "I…it’s okay, it’s me." She shifted uncomfortably fighting conflicting urges to comfort and to run. "Buffy."

_Yeah, that’s gonna make her feel all safe. You stabbed her remember? _

A part of her feared that Faith would rear up in the bed like a scene from a bad horror movie and strangle her. Instead she seemed to relax. Her eyes moving slowly under her lids.

Buffy took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she had to say. Or ask. Asking for help had always been difficult for her, but over the past year it had become just…alien. Who could she ask for help? Not Willow. Tara was gone. And Xander was always there to help, but he just wasn’t enough. Which left her with… "So, um, I’m just gonna say this ‘cause…okay, I need your help Faith." A few beats passed as she waited for some kind of response, a smirk or chuckle or something, but there was nothing. "I, uh, it’s my sister Dawn…who doesn’t exist yet, but…see there’s this metal time machine thing and Willow and I used it and we’re stuck in the past and that means Dawn’s stuck in the future and I need you to protect her for me." _Whoa channeling Willow. Slow down._ And her tone, she noticed was growing angrier and more demanding. "Okay, this is crazy, you don’t even…and why would you….I mean I stabbed you and we hate each other and…" Faith’s forehead furrowed again, her blank face forming a slight frown, which meant…

_They can hear you from miles away…it just takes longer to get there._

Faith’s words. From the dream. But could she really hear her? Understand her? _Well, she never heard me when she was all up and walking around…and stabbing me in the back._

_Okay, stop with the snarkiness ‘cause newsflash! The girl’s in a coma!_

"What did Mom say?" she mused aloud and remembered gentle words about regret. About making things right…now.

What were the things she regretted, really regretted about Faith?

_I regret that she is a skanky, evil…_

Buffy closed her eyes and began a breathing exercise to calm herself. To distance herself from the anger and prepare for battle. Because that’s what this felt like. It was Faith after all. Even if she was all coma-y. "Okay, so…I’m sorry I didn’t come…before…to see you or whatever. That was really kind of…crappy of me especially after you helped with the Mayor and all, so…sorry…you know, for that. The not coming here thing."

She grew quiet, her eyes drifting over the room’s depressing contents. An ancient-looking heart monitor next to a rusted IV stand. It took her a few seconds to realize she was waiting for a response. But Faith’s face was blank again and the heart monitor kept beeping in regular time.

_Okay this is stupid and a waste of time and…_

She jammed her hands in her coat pockets ready to leave and…there it was. Cylindrical and smooth. Lip balm. Or, more likely lip gloss. Pink. It was freshman year after all.

_Damn!_

Sucking in an enormous breath Buffy moved toward the figure on the bed, still ready for any sign of a waking Faith. Still ready for an attack.

"Okay, this is gonna seem really weird and…oh whatever." The lid came off with one tug and she approached the dark Slayer slowly. Cautiously. This was, after all, her arch enemy she was closing in on with only a tube of pink lip gloss.

It was easier than she thought it would be. Like playing makeover with Tara and Dawn. But it was strange to see that shiny pink on such a blank face. No smile. No expression at all. But at least the chapped lips were gone. And Faith almost looked…sweet.

_Probably the best revenge ever. Evil she-demon slayed by Cotton Candy lip gloss!_ She thought and laughed out loud surprising herself. The image of Faith awaking from a coma horrified to find herself wearing pink lip gloss made her laugh even louder, but the hollow, lonely sound of her laughter echoing through the room and out into the hall silenced her.

And that left her in an awkward quiet, which was strange because that’s all there had been between them. But she felt as if there was a conversation happening. Just not audible.

"So, um, there’s all this stuff I need to tell…" someone. She trailed off and realized she was fidgeting with the tube of lip gloss. Popping the cap off and back on over and over again. She began to return it to her coat pocket, but stopped herself. With a mischievous smile she slid the tube into Faith’s limp hand.

_Maybe she’ll think she did it herself. In her sleep…or coma or whatever. _

After a few more moments her smile faded and her eyes drifted over the dark Slayer’s once powerful form. Her jaw clenched unconsciously when she reached Faith’s abdomen. It was covered in hospital gown. The wound. The scar. But she could feel it anyway. A frown burned its way into her forehead and she took another deep cleansing breath.

"My mom’s gonna die Faith. In about a year." The tears began and she didn’t even try to stop them. "And I can’t do anything about it. Or maybe I can, but I shouldn’t and…" she looked to that pale face for a reaction, but there was nothing. Just pink lip gloss on that perfect mouth that had never been still before. Faith had always had something to say…about everything. "And I’m gonna kind of…die….you know, too. Only they bring me back…."

And it all began to pour out of her. Willow and Tara. Dawn and her mother. And heaven. The peace she had lost. All of it. Because she needed to tell someone and she knew Faith would understand even if she was evil. Because she was a Slayer. She knew what it was like to be the _One_. Which was just another way of saying ‘alone’ wasn’t it?

****

"Put her down. Now."

Dawn felt the uneven up-down of Spike’s gait stop abruptly, his strong arms pulling her closer to his body. Which was kind of comforting and kind of…disturbing.

"Look Slayer, just because Buffy’s not here…" he began and was interrupted by Faith as she stepped with violent intent into his personal space.

"Don’t you ever say her name!" it came out as more of a hiss, but the impact was the same as a high-decibel scream. Dawn’s vision was wobbly at best, but she could see the muscles in the Slayer’s jaw grind away with pent-up fury. Could feel a tremor in the vampire’s grip. "Scumbags like you don’t deserve to say her name.’

_That’s why she calls her B,_ Dawn mused with some part of her brain that seemed to be floating like a helium balloon just over her left shoulder.

"Put me down Spike. Please."

The world shifted dangerously on its axis as her feet found the ground and her knees failed to hold up their end of the bargain. Faith’s arm was suddenly around her, righting the world to a gentle rocking motion. Like being on her father’s sailboat on a calm day. She knew it was the Slayer’s arm because it was warm and slick with sweat and probably about ten different kinds of demon blood. And Slayer blood too she thought with a frown. Lots of it. There was that rusty sweet smell she was too familiar with and something else. Kerosene? Or maybe turpentine. It smelled like art class. Did the demons have turpentine running in their veins?

"Look. I wasn’t gonna hurt her…" he began and trailed off with a frown.

"I know Spike." The words were hard to form and came out in a whispered sort of mumble. "It’s okay. Can we…just…." But she couldn’t seem to form words any longer.

She felt Faith growl low as she leaned into her shoulder. As they began to limp away all she could think was, when did Faith get so short? _Have all the Slayers back through the ages or whatever, been so… vertically challenged?_

"Well, I’m not leaving you two out here alone. State you’re in, a bloody fruitfly could take out the both of you and Bu--…that other Slayer’ll kick my ass if anything happens to the Little One. " Then the unmistakable sound of a Zippo and the vampire’s heavy boots trudging behind them.

They were so close to home now. One more block and she would be able to rest. Maybe. If the house wasn’t already a pile of kindling for Vra’al and his minions. For some reason The Three Little Pigs came to mind. "I’ll huff and I’ll puff…"

She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until she caught Faith looking at her with something between a smile and a frown of concern.

"And I’ll blow your house down. Almost there D. Just hang on," The Slayer’s voice was gentle and even, but she could tell by her breathing and their ever-slowing gait that she was weakening. So much blood.

She could see the house now, the yellow glow of the porch light that was always on. And that helped her find a little bit of strength somewhere. Enough to get her moving, to take some of the weight off of Faith. But there was someone on the porch, she could see the glint and shine of metal as the silhouette moved in front of the broken door. The square shoulders and fire engine red of a familiar tool box.

Xander. Her heart leapt at the sight of him. One more member of her family safe and…here. He was standing straight now, she could just see him squinting in their direction.. The tool in his hand suddenly became a weapon and he was marching toward them angrily and Dawn realized how this must all look. The vampire and the Evil Slayer dragging her home covered in blood.

"Great! Just fucking great," Faith hissed low and the wound at Dawn’s neck began to throb noisily.

"Dawn?" It was more of command than a question and the large metal tool she still didn’t recognize was now pointed at Faith. And he was still marching forward. Couldn’t he see that Faith was barely standing?

"I know how this looks, but it’s not what you think…" Faith began and Dawn felt the world shift in a vertiginous blur. If there had been anything on her stomach she would definitely have thrown it up.

"Oh I don’t know everyone’s covered in blood, the house is trashed, Buffy and Willow are missing so… of course," he threw up his hands in mock revelation. "Faith must be back in Sunnydale!"

The Slayer’s arm gripped her tightly, pulling her close and she became very conscious suddenly of the blood between them. And the weakness. If they could just get to the house.

"Xander, Faith’s here to help. Buffy and Willow are gone and…"

"Dawn I know you think Faith is like this supercool Slayer," he was speaking to her now in his most daddy-like voice. The one she hated. She didn’t remember him ever speaking this way before Willow went all dark magic. He’d just been Xander then. Cool, goofy, kinda cute Xander, but now….she forced herself to concentrate through the dizziness and nausea on his very important lecture. "…but she’s not. She killed people. And she hates Buffy. She’ll do anything to hurt her." He held her eyes for a moment and then looked back to the Slayer, his face full of rage and hurt and something else that she couldn’t really figure out.

"You don’t know anything about it…" Faith began angrily and then stopped. Dawn felt her take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "Look, you can go all Montel on me later. Right now we need to get…."

"Let’s get this straight, I don’t take orders from murdering psychos, I don’t care if you are a Chosen One," he shouted taking a step toward the Slayer, the tool Dawn now recognized as a hammer was held at a threatening angle. "Let go of Dawn."

"As much as I hate to admit it the Slayer’s right, Dawn’s…" Spike began only to be cut off by Xander.

"You shutup! Should have known you’d team up with the Slut Slayer first chance you got. Why don’t you go crawl back to whatever rock she found you under." The hammer was now six inches from Faith’s face and Dawn felt suddenly sick.

 

"Look, I’m trying to stay all cool here, but if you don’t get that out of my face…" Faith said evenly and shifted into what Dawn recognized immediately as a fighting stance. Rolling slightly on the balls of her feet. Probably trying to decide how to disable him without letting go of her.

"Oh, what? You gonna kill me? Guess you liked your little trip to the big house?" He appraised her injuries with a sneer. "I dunno Faith, that arm doesn’t look so good so I’m thinking I could take…"

This was insane. They had just battled, like, a thousand demons, they were bleeding and broken and they still weren’t any closer to the house. Her neck began to hurt with a dull, hard pain.

"Stop! Both of you!" Dawn yelled and brought her other arm around the Slayer’s neck to hold herself up. "Xander, I love you, you know, like a brother or whatever… but right now… you’re being a real…asshole." She heard Spike snort behind her and chose to ignore him. She was desperate. Desperate for the old Xander. The one with the jokes and the donuts and the heart big enough for all of them. "We need to get to the house and get the Med Kit and the weapons ‘cause this demon is frickin’ huge and he’s gonna be here soon." He stood staring at her for a moment, his gaze bouncing back and forth between her face and the Slayer’s. Finally, his frown deepened, but the hammer slowly fell to his side.

"How big?"

She sighed with relief as the Slayer’s grip relaxed. "Like, fifteen feet…and minions…" she tried to relieve Faith by standing on her own, but ended up falling forward. Xander caught her easily and swept her up into his arms. "Lots of minions."

"Buffy?" He asked softly, his voice hoarse with more than a little fear as he walked without another word toward the house.

"She and Willow…" her eyes met Faith’s over Xander’s shoulder and she was overwhelmed again by a tide of violent images. Soft animal print sheets and a man standing over her bed loosening his belt. The sticky feeling of blood on her hands as an old man in tweed slid down a wall. Sharp heat as she looked down to see her own knife embedded deep in her own abdomen. And worse the terror and relief of following the hand that held it up to Buffy’s face.

"Dawn?" It was Xander voice, but she wasn’t in his arms anymore. She was now resting on something soft and familiar. The sofa in the living room. How did they get here so fast?

Then more images of blood and anger. And fear coagulating hot and thick.

"Faith," she mumbled through the haze and felt a hot hand take her own. And it all stopped.

"Hey Half Pint. You okay?" Dawn blinked back to reality and relaxed slightly as she took in the familiar objects of home.

"Dawn." It was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"What?"

"Could you please I mean, when it’s not like all an emergency or something… could you call me Dawn?"

Faith studied her with an unreadable expression on her own face then nodded. "Sorry, didn’t know ‘Half Pint’ bugged you so much."

"It didn’t…I mean it doesn’t. I just…I want you to call me Dawn. Okay?" She wasn’t sure what she wanted for why she even needed this, but it seemed important somehow. "I mean D’s okay, but…"

"No problem jefe." Faith smiled at her. "I mean, Dawn." She made a strange face around the name, like embarrassment, but managed to say it out loud.

"See it’s not so…"

A gunshot rang out making them both jump quickly followed by a long wail and she remembered. The room. It was down here too which meant it was taking over the house.

Faith’s head was thrown back as she stared up at the ceiling. The floor of that room. Her neck streaked with blood and dirt.

"Okay, one really heavy MedKit," Xander grumbled as he struggled into the room with the enormous metal box. Another wail stopped him, his eyes growing wide as he tried not to look up. "So when, exactly, did the house get all haunted?"

"It’s kind of a long story," she mumbled absently. Faith withdrew her hand gently to rummage through the Kit and she felt the world slip again.

"Dermabond!" Faith exclaimed like a child on Christmas morning and Dawn couldn’t help smiling. "And a medical stapler. Hella cool!" She ripped open a sterile swab and reached toward Dawn’s neck and the teen felt the cool burn of alcohol.

"Faith, your arm…"

"Nope." The Slayer ignored her protests and grabbed a tube of something called Emla. "Me Slayer, remember. Me strong." She ended with a cave grunt and Dawn noticed out of the corner of her eye that Xander was watching them both carefully. Which was strange ‘cause he never shut up.

"But your forehead is just gross…" she backed up slightly as Faith approached her with some smelly beige cream. "What is that stuff?"

"Magic." Faith wiggled her eyebrows and then winced. Dawn’s stomach turned over as the gash on the Slayer’s forehead began to bleed again.. "Pain killer." She offered weakly and smeared it on the bite at her neck before placing a bandage over the area. "Now your arm."

"No, Faith," she began but was cut off by Xander.

"I’ll take care of Dawnie," he said a little too loud and then softened. "You should do something about that arm. And your forehead." He finished with a frown and there was a long silence. Finally Faith nodded at him once and grabbed the tube of Dermabond and a few other things. With a wink for Dawn she was off to the bathroom still holding her wounded arm carefully against her body.

As Xander rifled through the kit, Dawn sank back gratefully into the chair. Faith was right, that stinky cream was magic. The pain in her neck had almost completely disappeared. She touched the rough bandage with the tips of her fingers and remembered the reason it was there in the first place. Spike.

Scanning the room for him, she remembered that Willow had replaced the vampire lock on the house. It was the only magic Buffy had allowed near the house since she had gone dark magic. Everything magic-related had been banned to the now-destroyed Magic Box or just thrown out.

An orange flare from the dark front porch gave him away. As Xander wiped down her arm with antiseptic she called out to the front porch. "Spike, you can come…"

"No!" Xander and Faith said it simultaneously and she stopped in shock. Faith now stood facing the door, her face set in hard lines. Dawn noticed that the gash on her forehead was now sealed and the cut on her arm, though still open and bleeding had been cleaned and covered in a yellow antiseptic.

"Spike is permanently uninvited to the Summers’ house," Xander said with finality and then ripped open a bandage. "That’s the way Buffy wanted it."

Dawn’s first inclination was to argue. It wasn’t just Buffy’s house. It was hers too. Then she remembered what Spike had done and frowned, her eyes falling to the floor.

Another ghostly gunshot ripped through the room and she felt Xander jump.

"S’okay Little Bit. I’d rather be out here." The orange glow intensified and then flicked away in a high arc. "Where I can smoke. Plus there’s some serious witchiness going on in there." He came close to the open doorway and stopped with an exaggerated shudder. "Gives me the willies."

There was a burst of light and a familiar voice, cutting through the room like glass. "Okay, I said I would help, but no one said anything about the penis." Anya. Dawn smiled with relief. Maybe she had answers. "Or penises," she said studying the vampire’s skulking form with obvious distaste. "Or is it peni? I’m never really clear on that whole plural…"

Faith, she noticed had slipped over to the couch and was busily stapling her arm back together, wincing with each pop of the gun.

"Oh, no, no," Xander rose to his feet and Dawn rolled her eyes. This could take days. "You didn’t say anything about Anya being..."

"You know what? Do me a favor and never invite me in," Spike chimed in from the porch. She heard the sound of his Zippo as Xander continued his angry rant.

"…no more demons, no more vampires. From now on this is strictly a humans-only operation, so both of you can just…."

"Look, I’m no fan of Willy out there, but he did us a solid with the demon hordes and he’s pretty good in a fight." Faith interjected absently as she concentrated on stapling her arm back together. Dawn knew from experience that this entire confrontation was heading toward an explosion. An ugly one. "Same with the VD here. So," she shrugged, her eyes moving from Anya to Xander. "As long as they’re on the right side they’re five by five with me." She returned to her stapling and Dawn noticed that Anya had crossed her arms and was now smiling smugly at Xander.

"Well…that’s…that’s…" he sputtered angrily, his facing growing redder by the moment. He looked like her Uncle Freddy did before the heart attack. "That’s a hell of a recommendation coming from the Slut Slayer who stabbed Buffy in the back…"

Faith turned to face him, stapler held like a weapon, "B stabbed me remember? Put me in a fucking coma, but of course you could never see that ‘cause you’ve been hot for her since.…"

"Thank you!" Anya yelled. "Finally somebody says it. You’ve been all moony-eyed over Buffy for years…"

"Hey I’m not the one who slept with dead boy out there," Xander interjected, redirecting his anger at the vengeance demon. "So did you sleep with Faith too Anya? Or was it a threesome with Spike…"

"Now that would have been…" Spike interjected from the porch wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hello! B’s the one with the undead fetish, not me…"

"Two whole minutes of sex with Spike is more than enough for one lifetime," Anya interrupted. "Although at least it was more than you could ever manage."

Dawn shook her head as Spike puffed up to defend himself.

"Hang on! It was at least three minutes and…"

Xander seemed to actually inflate with anger as he stepped toward the vampire, bandage in hand.

"Shutup! I should have staked you..."

"Ohmygod, shut the fuck up! All of you!" Dawn screamed and then stood silent for a moment shocked at her own outburst. "Hello! Big demon coming. Plus lots of medium-sized demons! We need to…" Another loud wail echoed through the room. Anya was now staring up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused.

"You go Dawn," Faith said, nodding her head with more than a smug smile, until she noticed the vengeance demon and grew suddenly serious.

"When did this happen?" Anya demanded sharply. "The spreading? When did it start?"

"It was like this when we got back," Faith responded and picked up a roll of gauze, her gaze was still fixed on the vengeance demon who was now shaking her head.

"This is not good." She clucked a few times in what Dawn knew to be a nervous tick. Definitely not a good sign. "This is really not good. Really, really not good."

"Okay, ‘this is not good’ in a bad hair day kind of way? Or in an end of the world…"

"End of the world," she interrupted Xander’s question, still focused on the ceiling. "It’s, um, it’s the Heart." She was now glancing around the room, gesticulating wildly. "Willow’s magic is probably making it unstable and if she doesn’t fix it soon, it’ll explode into this reality. And not in a good way."

"So what does that mean?" Dawn asked, her voice shaking with fear.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Be tough like a Slayer. _

Dawn glanced over at Faith who met held her eyes for a moment and blinked slowly to let her know that it was going to be okay. It was reassuring for a moment, like the connection they had shared, but without all the violent images.

The vengeance demon returned her eyes to Dawn’s and sighed loudly before continuing in a matter-of-fact tone. "That means…" she paused for a moment as if she was searching for the right words. "Oh! Like Glory. Kind of a mini-version of what the hell-bitch was after." She nodded emphatically, happy with her analogy and then added. "Only without the Key. So…hey," she squeezed Dawn’s arm "Lucky you."

"Yeah…lucky me," the teen mumbled.

"So that’s what Cordy saw." Faith stated without any emotion. "Red and B and the end of the world?"

Anya nodded cheerfully. "Yep."

"Well how do we stop it?" Dawn blurted out in desperation and heard a ‘bloody hell’ behind her on the porch. "I mean, can’t we cast a spell or call up a spirit or…" she was in tears now, past the point of caring how it looked. Because she wasn’t a Slayer. "How do we stop this?"

Anya’s expression actually softened into something sad. She shook her head slightly. "You don’t. Willow does…or," she frowned, "She doesn’t."


	8. Chapter 8

Willow turned on her side to watch the slow rise and fall of Tara’s chest. Sunrise was beginning to color the sky in pinks and reds, making the blonde’s skin a study in perfect peach. Pale eyelashes fluttered and a line formed between closed eyes. Willow recognized the signs of an impending nightmare and ran shaking fingers lightly over the soft skin of a cheek to tuck strands of gold behind one ear.

"Shhh, it’s okay, baby," she whispered and brushed her lips against the warm soft of Tara’s forehead.

"Mmmm, Willow," the blonde sighed and with a smile returned to sleep. It was so tempting to kiss those perfect lips to waking, to move the blonde with soft touches and tastes back to consciousness. Back to them. But she needed to sleep. The spell had been an enormous drain on both of them and, well… they hadn’t exactly gotten much rest afterward. She smiled again and stifled a yawn. There would be no sleep for her. The divination had shown her that.

Her gaze fell on the slowly spinning map, hovering near the bed. Another soft kiss for Tara and she rose painfully from the bed. The simple act of removing the sheet and crawling to the floor took all of her willpower and nearly all of her strength. Breathing heavily, she finally sat cross-legged before the holographic image of the spell’s magic, studying the slow and steady mix of its surface.

Because it was all there in a swirling mix of greens and violet, red and…dark. Tangled into a three-dimensional mess of energies and magic.

_Liquid fiery marble_, she thought with a rueful smile. Tara’s description of her own aura seemed appropriate for the sphere of light.

With a series of deep breaths, Willow centered herself falling into a deep meditation, letting her mind reach out to read the mix of energies, to unravel the knots and plaits of the spell that had brought them here. And the magic that was keeping them here.

Concentrating with all of her will, she could just make out the seams and subtle lines between where the magics shimmered against each other in a constant state of simultaneous attraction and repulsion. Backing out to study the whole of it, she knew in a moment of terrible clarity how this would end. Because there were two ways to untangle space and time. But only one that would lead her back to Tara.

Opening her eyes slowly, Willow’s eyes trailed up the sinuous curve of her girlfriend’s sleeping back. Studying the fall of golden hair over the dark sheets, she smiled and turned inward to feel the connection between them shimmering and bright.

"I won’t lose you again," she whispered and closed her eyes.

****

It had been quiet for almost four minutes in the Summers’ house, which had to be a record. Everything had been explained and re-explained and argued over for what seemed like hours, but was probably more like thirty minutes. Dawn checked her watch to find that it had been exactly forty-two minutes. Forty-two minutes of Anya and Xander chipping away at each other and Spike pouting and occasionally interjecting an inflammatory remark or two. At least they did know thanks to him that the portal Vra’al and his minions were using was open for limited time frames. Anya guessed fifteen minutes, but she couldn’t say for sure.

At some point Faith had grown very silent, finally slipping out during a particularly heated exchange to wander the front yard. Dawn watched her through the window as she paced the distance between trees, from the front porch to the sidewalk. Stopping occasionally to look back at the house with a faraway stare. She noticed that sometimes now, watching Faith, those terrible images would flash through her mind, but they were growing cloudy. Distant. Like old memories. Terrifying memories she shouldn’t have.

_What was up with that anyway…weird._

Anya and Xander were bickering again in hushed tones and her attention floated back to the room. Probably one more thing she wasn’t supposed to hear.

"…but if Willow went all dark magic then we have to do something," Xander argued his voice getting louder.

"Look, I’ve already explained this. We can’t do anything about Willow…"

"Can’t or ‘won’t’ Anya?" Xander interrupted and Dawn watched the muscles in the vengeance demon’s jaw clench with anger. "Because I’m thinking this is more about you not wanting to ‘interfere’ because it’s some kind of vengeance demon conflict of interest or whatever."

"Hello! We are talking about Willow here not some wicked witch of the west or whatever. Plus a very powerful demon thingy constructed by yet another super powerful witch." Anya stood with hands on her hips, her eyes full of rage. "This is not something you just throw some herbs at and chant a few words in Latin!" She rolled her eyes in desperation.

"So… great! We just wait to see if Willow fixes things?" Xander demanded angrily. When Anya simply nodded he closed his eyes tightly.

"Oh like that’s gonna happen," Spike’s voice rang out from the porch.

A cold chill washed over Dawn. This was a new argument. Everything before had been about Vra’al. Or the past. Who had slept with whom. But this was new and terrifying. "What do you mean?" Dawn asked, her voice shaking with fear.

Xander turned to her and swallowed hard. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle. "She’s been so depressed Dawn. Since…Tara." His forehead furrowed in deep lines and she found her thoughts drifting to Tara. "And I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but she tried to kill herself in England." He looked down at the floor. "A couple of times."

"What?" She remembered all the times she had avoided Willow since her return. Returning home from school late every day so she wouldn’t run into the redhead. Memorizing her class schedule so she could avoid her. She couldn’t even look her in the eye. But…she had tried to kill herself?

_Okay, now I feel like a total jerk._

_But Willow was getting better. She was all joke-y again. Even if it was kind of fake. She was trying._

_Think how much you miss Tara. Willow must be…_

She couldn’t even complete the thought. She had been so angry at Willow for so long, but the thought of losing the redhead permanently made her sick with fear.

"No. You shouldn’t tell her shit like that," Faith growled from the doorway and Dawn jumped. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

"Look," He began defensively, "I just think we need to have all the facts here before we start making plans…"

Anya released a long sigh. "Okay there is a way to stop this…the end of the world thing." She looked at the floor and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. "But you’re not gonna like it."

There was a long silence as everyone waited for the vengeance demon to continue. She could see Spike’s shadowy figure behind Faith’s silhouette in the doorway, his back turned as if he was pretending not to listen.

"An," Xander asked gently and Dawn knew it was bad. If Xander was this worried…

"It’s Vra’al’s Heart," she began. "If we just let him have it, this will all go away." It sounded so simple, but Anya’s forehead was furrowed.

"But I couldn’t even get it out of the room," Faith began only to be cut off.

"Doesn’t matter." She shook her head emphatically. "It’s his. He can take it. Whenever."

"So, great!" Xander exclaimed excitedly glancing around the room with an elated smile. "Why didn’t you tell us this before ‘cause I’m seeing a big win-win here. No losing of major body parts fighting the fifteen foot demon and, hey, no end-of-the-world. Sounds good to me."

But Faith was silent, studying the vengeance demon carefully. "What’s the catch?"

Anya raised her eyebrows in that way that spoke volumes. Volumes of bad news. "I’m not sure really…"

"But?"

"But Willow and Buffy probably just, you know, won’t come back. They’d be trapped…probably…wherever they are."

Dawn was on her feet in a moment to confront Anya. "What? No!" She was crying now and shouting. "We’re not gonna let that happen right? ‘cause what if they’re trapped in some hell place and…"

"It’s not gonna happen," Faith said calmly and Dawn felt some of the terrible tension in herself dissolve.

Xander stared at Dawn for a moment and then turned away, hands on hips.

"So let me get this straight," Spike said from the porch. "We either let the big demon have his Heart and lose the Slayer and Red or we trust the suicidal super witch to make this right before the world ends?" It was more of a statement than a question and Anya just nodded her assent. "Perfect!" He exclaimed with a rueful smile he turned away.

"Well, I personally think that Willow and Buffy would want us to save the world." Anya added and Dawn noticed that she was now directing most of her lectures at Faith. "I mean, Buffy did it once already. The dying that is…to save the world. So, it’s really not even a question. Is it?"

Again with the silence.

Dawn was speechless. How was there even a discussion about this? The panic began to rise again and she glanced over at Faith to find the Slayer staring at her.

"Vra'al is not getting that Heart." She said evenly, her eyes still fixed on the teen’s.

"I’m with the Slayer," Spike offered in his most matter-of-fact tone and walked into the yard. Dawn looked to Xander, but his back was still turned, his shoulders hunched as if he were in pain.

"Look at you all," Anya exclaimed. "You’re maimed and mauled and do you really think you can hold him off long enough for Willow to stop this? If she’s going to stop this at all. Because we really can’t be sure that she will or even that she can ‘cause they could be dead in there and in that case the world’s gonna end anyway, which means no Willow and no Buffy…"

"Dawn?" It was Faith again and she knew what the rest of the question was. And she knew that Anya was right. Buffy would want her save the world. To do the safe thing. Because Willow couldn’t be trusted anymore. Right? That’s what they were all saying. Except Spike. And Faith. And Xander who wasn’t saying anything. But that was the thing they were all saying with their silence. That they didn’t trust Willow, but they wouldn’t give up on Buffy.

She found herself staring up at the photo of Tara, barely visible in the darkened upstairs hallway.

_What would Tara say? _

Faith followed her line of sight and her features softened.

She would tell me to trust my heart…like that’s a big help. ‘Cause I don’t know anything anymore…

Except that Willow had brought Buffy back. That she had fought a hell-god to save Tara.

_And she took care of me…she and Tara… and Xander…when Buffy was gone. When I had no one. _

They were family. And that was a thing her mother had taught her. That you couldn’t pick and choose when to believe in your family. They were a constant. A cosmic constant as Willow would say.

"I trust Willow." Her eyes drifted from the smiling blonde’s portrait to a photo of her Mother and Buffy. Faith nodded with a slight smile and moved silently toward the weapon chest. She turned to find Xander looking confused, his brow knitted in a very un-Xander way. Dawn expected Anya to protest or at least mock her decision, but the vengeance demon was smiling a crooked sad smile.

"Well, I guess I’m gonna be out of the vengeance business soon."

"Why?" She was hoping that meant some kind of vengeance-y spell. Some kind of big demon magic to reset everything, to bring Willow and Buffy back.

Anya’s face pinched into her normal expression of mild disapproval. "Because I’m about to interfere with Willow Rosenburg." She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Oh well." She walked over to Faith and the two began sorting through the weapons.

"So, I’m thinking Dawn and X-man in the house with crossbows…" Faith began only to be cut off by a suddenly animated Xander.

"No. No way am I gonna hide in the house while you…"

"Look," Faith cut him off angrily. "We don’t have time for this pride crap." She pointed at Anya and Spike, "Demon, vampire and Slayer are harder to kill. We’ll be the front line." Turning back to the weapons she tucked a dagger into her belt. "’Sides, someone needs look after Dawn."

That seemed to placate Xander. With a nod, he began tipping furniture in front of the windows, barricading them in.

"Great. What are we supposed to do if Vra’al actually gets in here?"

"He’s not going to," Faith said and then winked, "and if he does, just start talking about boys. That should send him screaming back to hell."

It took her a few moments to get it. The joke. Because her mind was so fixed on the dire and the bad. Then it hit her and the juice box she’d been nursing for an hour was in her hand like a weapon. "Oh my god, you are so going to get it!" She squeezed once sending a stream of pink liquid all over the Slayer.

There was a moment when those dark eyes narrowed that she thought she might actually be in danger, but Faith dropped her weapon and lunged at her with a wicked grin. Dawn actually screamed in mock terror and then began giggling uncontrollably as she dove for the other side of the dining room table.

"Faith, I’m sorry…really," she pleaded, carefully keeping as much table as possible between herself and the Slayer who was stalking her with an evil smile.

"Come on Dawn. You’re just making this harder on yourself," the Slayer said calmly and Dawn realized she hadn’t been nearly this scared when they were facing the demon and his horde.

"I don’t talk about boys that much," she said defiantly and moved slightly to her left to counterbalance the Slayer’s move.

"Ohmygod, and there’s this guy Brandon. He’s, like, sooooooo cute," Faith parroted her girly tone and intonation perfectly and Dawn felt her face heat up in embarrassment. "But I’m all into this other guy Asher who’s got these, like, amazing eyebrows that are all kinds of…"

"Here you can have mine if you want," Anya handed another juice box to Faith who accepted it without taking her eyes off Dawn. "It’s full," the demon added, raising her eyebrows for Dawn.

"Thanks a lot An…" she didn’t have time to finish the sentence as Faith suddenly leapt across the table catching her good arm. Dawn screamed with laughter and squeezed the last of her juice box at the Slayer as she emptied the contents of her own box on the teen’s head.

"Bloody hell, I thought someone was dying in here."

She looked up to find Spike in the doorway, one eyebrow raised in a smirk as he regarded their immature antics with obvious distaste. Xander stood nearby with his hands on is hips looking confused. As if he was deciding how to react. A slight smile played at his lips.

"You know, I like seeing two scantily-clad girls wrestling in grape juice as much as the next guy, but," his smile faded slightly. "Since we don’t have a battle plan and Big Bad’s on his way…"

A ghostly gunshot rang through the house and the Slayer’s smile faded almost immediately. "I kept hearing this high-pitched squeaking, like dolphins or something…" she trailed off lost in thought for a moment and then turned to Anya. "But the demons weren’t say anything even though they were crazy well-organized"

The vengeance demon’s forehead crinkled in concentration. She left abruptly and they followed to find her searching through an ancient demon codex. "Did they look like this?" she asked pointing at a perfect illustration of the ugly demons in the cemetery. Faith nodded and wiped a drop of juice from her chin. "Well, they don’t talk…I mean, the way humans talk…with tongues and mouths… and they don’t have ears. You’re right about the dolphins…it works more like that." Faith stood deep in thought for a moment and then smiled, her eyes focusing on Dawn.

"I think I’ve got a plan." She shrugged. "Or at least, a really fucked up idea."

****

**Part XV**

Buffy marched with a new sense of rhythm toward Tara’s room. A quick check and change of clothes in her own dorm room had revealed a trail as bright as noon.

_Willow didn’t even bother to make the bed…which means they probably didn’t get a lot of research in_ she thought with a rueful smile.

The thought of the two witches still having sex in Tara’s room had made her hesitate momentarily, but there was a mantra developing in her head. A chant.

It had started with the words from the dream. back before Dawn but she knew the end of that phrase now. The punctuation. back before Dawn...dies. so it had become a new chant.

_Get back to Dawn. Get back to Dawn. _

It had started in that terrible hospital room and grown louder and more insistent as she closed the distance to her old friend. As if talking to Faith had helped her distill her conflicting thoughts down to one crystalline resolve:

_Back to Dawn. _

As if the dark Slayer was speaking to her from someplace deeper and farther away. Telling her about the future in some unspoken language. Or maybe it was the dream with all of its awful urgency. And it was starting to make sense to her. Not in a rational, point A to point B to point C kind of way, but in a deep down gut-level way.

A Faith way.back before She thought and actually stopped in the hallway. _Okay, I must have caught something in that hospital. Some kind of dementia.... _

Despite her newfound confidence she still hadn’t managed to decode the dream. Dawn in danger seemed obvious enough. And Faith…well, her impromptu trip to the hospital was almost certainly tied into that. But her cryptic remarks about Slayers not being fixers…. And the whole three-way wedding._ What was up with that? _

_Okay, you’re not going to figure this out by lurking around in the hallway. _

Another flight of stairs, ten yards and she was standing in front of Tara’s door. And she realized with sudden panic that there was a good possibility she was interrupting a major wiccan smoochies session. But a quick listen at the door let her know that the two women were up and talking softly in conversational tones. Flirty and sweet tones, but not overtly sexual.

_Lurk much? _

Swallowing hard she knocked gently and heard Willow’s muffled, "It’s probably Buffy." But she wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her. The door opened to reveal Tara, young and beautiful and so different from the picture of the blonde witch she kept in her mind.

But still…Tara. Here and alive. The image from the dream of a blood-soaked shirt flashed in her mind and she felt tears spring to her eyes.

"H-hi Buf-" Before she could stop herself Buffy had enveloped the shy blonde in a rib-cracking embrace. "Oh, um."

"Hey Buf, no breaking the girlfriend," she heard Willow say somewhere off to her right. With a laugh, Buffy released her death-grip on Tara and wiped clumsily at her eyes.

"Oh…sorry. I just," she turned to find Willow seated cross-legged on the floor in front of some kind of psychedelic disco ball. "Is she…I mean…does she know?"

A gentle nod from Willow. "Everything."

She turned her attention back to the blonde who was smiling shyly as she shuffled nervously from foot to foot. "I’m so sorry Tara…I forgot you don’t really know me…in this now. It’s just..." She paused momentarily worried that Willow didn’t mean everything. Had she really told Tara? The two witches exchanged a look full of sadness and meaning and she knew. Willow had told her. Everything. "I just missed you…I mean, we all do. Then."

Tara blushed crimson, her eyes darting around the room. "Oh, um, I…" She finally met the Slayer’s gaze with that crooked smile. "It’s okay. I-I’m just s-so glad we’re…um…f-friends. In the f-future I mean." She studied her clasped hands, her forehead furrowing in frustration. "That m-m-means a lot to m-me…r-really."

"It means a lot to me too," she said softly and reached out to squeeze the blonde’s arm gently. There was so much she wanted to say to Tara. Apologies and explanations. But how could she? This Tara didn’t know about the small things that had lead them to that future she was so desperate to return to. A future without the gentle blonde in it.

_And how do you say you’re sorry for letting someone die anyway? _

Buffy studied her intently with all of her senses, taking in everything about her just as she had found herself doing with her mother. As if she was trying to imprint everything about the two women indelibly on her consciousness. Or maybe as if she was looking for signs of blame.

The Slayer inside inevitably recorded and analyzed the obvious signs of submission. The hunched shoulders, down-turned eyes and averted gaze that spoke of the abuse she had only ever guessed at. The Slayer recognized all the signs of submission, of a non-alpha dog, but there was something else that registered again in a deeper place. She had always considered girls like Tara to be weak — easy prey. And she had assumed that the toughness Tara had developed over the years was a result of battling demons with the Scoobies. But as she studied the shy smiling girl before her, a girl who knew the terrible details of her own death, she saw with a thunderclap of clarity the immeasurable strength of this girl. Tara was stronger than all of them. Always had been.

"Well…um…I r-r-really should g-go," the blonde managed finally, squirming under Buffy’s gaze. "Y-you know…w-w-work and all." She finished with a nervous shrug and looked over at Willow with something like desperate indecision.

"Hello!" Her best friend’s familiar voice rang out. "There will be no leaving without major smooches or I will be forced to get my pout on."

Buffy almost laughed at the expression on the blonde’s face. Red was just not a big enough word for the color of her cheeks. And she was nervously looking back and forth between the redhead and the Slayer. Finally with a beaming smile she crossed the room and kneeled down to the redhead. Buffy found something very interesting to look at on the bookshelf and wondered why her face was suddenly hot.

After a painfully awkward good-bye hug with Tara, Buffy was finally alone in the room with Willow. With a deep breath, she forced her mind back to the problem at hand. The reason for her visit. She dropped to the floor to face the redhead and gasped when she saw her face. There were dark circles under her eyes and her gaze was unfocused and glassy. It seemed to take enormous energy for her to open her eyes and return the Slayer’s gaze.

"Um, Wil…no offense, but you look kinda…"

The redhead nodded slightly and winced. "Do you think Tara noticed?" She couldn’t answer the question. There was no right answer. There was the truth which was an emphatic‘yes’ and there was what her friend needed to hear. Willow nodded with a pained expression and looked down at her hands. "Yeah," she said softly and sighed.

Buffy’s eyes were drawn to the floating sphere, which was now actively giving her the wiggins. There was definitely some magic-y something going on with the disco ball.

"It’s a kind of a map," the redhead explained without any prompting. "Of the spell and…other things."

"So you found out what’s going on… with the device and everything," she said excitedly and the mantra began again.

_Back to Dawn. Back to Dawn_

_But Mom…_

"Actually, it was Tara," Willow began, her voice shaking and the Slayer wondered if it was fear or fragility. "She knew about it, which is kinda strange in itself," she paused to catch her breath. This was not right. Okay, willow should definitely be a little tired after what was obviously a night of sex, but this…this was wrong. The girl she had left the day before was healthy and full of Willow energy. This girl was deathly pale and weak. "It’s called Occum’s Heart," she extended a shaking hand to point to a book at the end of the bed. "There’s an illustration in that."

Buffy reached for the book and found a crude illustration of the thingy that had brought them here. And a lengthy, but ultimately useless description underneath. The same story of a lover lost that Willow had told her in the room. Before. "So…as usual this uses a lot of words to say absolutely nothing." She pushed the book aside and smiled at her friend. "What does it do?"

"Well, Tara says that from what she’s read it was made to give people a second chance at something….you know, kind of a ‘do-over’ that changes things….the future…but no one really knows for sure."

_A second chance…_ "Oh. So we’re here so you can have a second chance to see Tara…"

"No," Willow interrupted, her voice hoarse and weak. "Not my second chance. You cast the spell remember? I’m not even supposed to be here, but when I cast a spell to stop it, our magics got all mixed up and…voila."

"So, how… I mean…but I didn’t want a second chance at anything. I mean I don’t think…" she trailed off struggling to remember the events of that evening. Dawn at Rain’s house…and the confrontation with Faith in the Rain’s front yard.

There was her mother. That was a given. And there was nothing to do over except every moment she had ever spent with her mom.

"Well, it’s more complicated now…" the redhead began and trailed off, glancing quickly at the floating sphere. There was something she wasn’t telling her. She knew the way secrets felt. They were the atmosphere and oxygen of their lives, in the future.

But this wasn’t the future.

_Make it right…now. _

"Wil, what’s going on?" she asked softly.

Willow choked back a sob, but her lip quivered uncontrollably. "It’s…we’re not supposed to be here…still. My magic is…" she grew silent and Buffy watched tears roll down her face.

"Your magic is keeping us here?" Buffy asked gently and the redhead nodded.

"It’s sucking energy from me to keep us here." She smiled a thin smile. "Thus the sickliness on my part."

"So you can just release your spell and we’ll be back…"

"It’s more complicated than that," the redhead began and then stopped. Buffy closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. It was going to take all of her willpower not to scream at Willow. Because there was definitely something else going on here. Something wrong because it should have been simple. Willow should stop her spell and the Heart would do its thing and they would be back.

_Without Tara. Without Mom. _

The realization hit her like a blow to the chest. She couldn’t breathe. It was like before when she had been ripped from heaven to be with them. To be with Dawn. But she hadn’t had a choice then.

"I won’t lose her again," Willow said evenly as if she had read the Slayer’s thoughts.

"But Willow we have to go back. Dawn is…" her tone was now urgent and panicked.

"You are going back Buffy." Willow reassured her and her smile was so calm and peaceful. Almost innocent. "I’m not…I can’t live without her….I won’t."

There was a long silence as she tried to process her friend’s statement. Her eyes wandered to the sphere just over the redhead’s shoulder. The beautiful mix of colors and the darkness that seemed to be growing. Spreading through the bright like a deadly infection.

But it was simple. All Willow had to do was let go. Once her energy was gone…

_Oh god!_ This time the realization swept over her in an enormous, nauseating wave of desperate anger.

If Willow didn’t let go her energy would dissipate until, finally, there was no more spell…and no more Willow.

"No!" She was on her feet in an instant, the Slayer within ready for a fight. Ready for violence. "You can’t…I won’t let you do this Willow." Because this was a threat. A direct threat. And she wasn’t going to allow that dark-eyed demon to take away everything again.

She ran quickly through the possibilities. She could threaten Willow. Could force her physically to let go.

The redhead sighed, her forehead creasing. But her eyes, when they opened slowly, were green. "There is no ‘letting me’ Buffy," Willow closed her eyes heavily and the Slayer saw the hard pain there etched in deep lines. "Can’t you see it’s already done?"

****

**Part XVI**

They had been actively working on Faith’s ‘fucked up idea’ for an hour. Dawn downloading file after file from the internet while Xander wired the house and yard. The Slayer had spent a large amount of the time tending to her wounds and eating almost everything in the house.

"Growing girl," she said around a mouthful of M&amp;Ms and Dawn, seeing her chocolate-stained face felt a little better about everything.

"Ever heard of sharing?" she admonished playfully and grabbed a handful of candy.

After pelting the teen with carefully targeted candies the Slayer finally got bored and made her way out into the yard. Dawn watched as she paced the distance between trees and cement casually flipping a sword from one hand to the other in terrifying swirls of lethal metal. One slip, one slight miscalculation and Faith would lose fingers or worse. An arm. With a shudder she tried not to watch. She knew what Faith was doing. The Slayer had explained it to her as testing the balance of each weapon. Which didn’t make much sense, but it was more than she would have ever gotten out of her sister. Buffy would have just told her to go clean her room or something.

The files were now raining in fast, so Dawn gave up watching the blue bars make their slow progress and sneaked upstairs. The creep factor definitely increased as she got closer to the room. She could see it now from the end of the hall, but she stopped to take another look at Tara. And her Mom. It was strange and terrifying the things she had forgotten about the two of them. She tried everyday to remember something about both of them, but it got harder. And that just made her feel guilty. And as the dark slayer was trying to teach her, guilt wasn’t something she needed right now. She needed to focus on keeping those demons away from the house as long as possible. Away from that room to give Buffy and Willow enough time.

_Focus. _

It still looked exactly the same. As in completely destroyed. Like a tornado had hit it. And the wailing was louder inside. Standing above the flickering laptop and the metal Heart, it was obvious whose grief-filled yells filled the room. It didn’t take Slayer hearing to pick out the unique timbre of Willow’s voice.

And she was beginning to understand. Willow. The two suicide attempts. Which was really what all of that end of the world stuff was about. Probably. And something else between Willow and Buffy and Xander that she would never really understand. But she understood the wanting to disappear part. For so long she had felt something slowly erasing a part of herself. The part that held her mother and Tara in it. But it wasn’t just the memories that were disappearing, it was the other things too. The feelings and thoughts that made everything better and safe. That was why she spent a few minutes every day trying to remember. Talking to them seemed to help. Seemed to connect her to past…

"Buffy, you need to hurry ‘cause…well, we need you here. I mean, I need you here."

She ran a hand through her hair nervously and stared at the broken laptop screen. "And, um, Willow I know I’ve been kind of…" she paused, not sure how to say it all. Even if they couldn’t hear her. "Whatever I just…I wanted you to know that I think I understand…a little."

She felt a familiar presence behind her and jumped.

"Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya," Faith shifted nervously. "I just thought you might know if Buffy has a secret weapons stash somewhere."

"Yep, under her bed. Next to her diary."

"Her diary?" Faith’s eyebrows rose in a half-hearted attempt at her typical playful smirk. "Anything interesting?"

She wanted to play along, to keep the mood light, but the diary and the devastation of that room kept painting everything in muted tones. And the diary…everything she knew about Faith came from that diary. From Buffy’s initial impressions of her that sounded like the jealous scribblings of a teenager, to her sister’s growing guilt and rationalization and finally to self-righteous anger. And maybe even hate.

One passage stood out in her mind. It had terrified her when she read it and the words still haunted her:

_I tried to kill Faith tonight and I know I should feel bad about it. But I don’t. _

_Not even a little._

There a few lines scratched out in heavy lines of blue ink. Then:

_What’s happening to me?_

She had always believed that her sister was some kind of untouchable icon of good.. like a stone statue of a saint. Until she found that page.

"No. She doesn’t write in it anymore. Not since Mom." A frown pinched Dawn’s forehead and she knelt to drag the black chest from under the bed to hide her emotions. She had always felt comfortable invading Buffy’s private space. They were sisters and it was kind of her duty, but now standing with Faith in the familiar room it just felt like a violation of Buffy’s trust.

_But what am I supposed to do? I can't be the only one to know these things..._

The diary, she discovered, now rested on top of the weapons in the box. Running her fingers over it lightly she thought of her sister’s return from death. The girl whose thoughts were too painful and raw to even write down. She extended the diary to Faith and almost cried at the reverent way the dark slayer held it.

Faith studied its worn fabric cover for a moment then swallowed hard. "Thanks, but…I don’t think I..." She placed it carefully on Buffy’s bed and bent down to rifle through the weapons, her forehead deeply lined as she stole occasional glances at the pink cover. Arranging Buffy’s favorite weapons carefully around her, the Slayer reached for a shining blade on the bottom and stopped mid-motion. Her hand hovered over the box for several moments and Dawn noticed a slight tremor in the strong spread of her fingers.

"What is it?"

Faith didn’t answer. After taking a deep breath she bent to withdraw a cruel-looking double-bladed dagger. It looked rusty near the hilt, which was strange because Buffy was so anal about everything. Especially her weapons.

"Is that paint?" she asked and felt stupid because she knew by the look on Faith’s face and the memories that weren’t hers what that was. Blood. Faith’s blood. And this was that knife. That knife that had changed everything.

The Slayer turned the blade slowly, shaking her head, her eyes growing darker. And Dawn knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

"Can I see it? The scar I mean," she asked quietly, but Faith’s head snapped back as if she’d been struck. There were a few moments of awkward silence before a sad smile covered the Slayer’s face. She nodded and lifted the hem of her shirt with one hand to reveal a jagged purplish, but fading scar near her hip.

Dawn resisted the urge to touch it, to trace its ugly lines with her fingertips. As if that could fill in the gaps of what she didn’t know. There were only the fragmented images from Faith’s memory and pieces of overheard conversations to tell the story. And the diary. The rest of that confrontation was a secret between Faith and Buffy that no one else could really get close to. Her sister had tried to kill this girl and the proof was written on Faith’s body in a jagged red line.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs brought her back from her musings.

"I knew it!" Xander stood in the doorway angrily pointing at Faith. The Slayer quickly pulled her shirt down to cover the scar and lowered the blade. "I knew this was all some bullshit act of yours Faith."

"What now?"

"Spike said he heard from Willy that that thing," he pointed to Willow’s room without taking his eyes from the dark Slayer. "Was supposed to be delivered to the Mayor’s Slayer. And that would be you." He finished with a sneer. "Since, if I’m not mistaken, you were the Mayor’s bitch. Not Buffy."

"I am nobody’s bit--"

"What?" Dawn shook her head and turned to Faith. All the angry words in that diary about betrayal ran through her mind as she stared into dark eyes. Had this all been some crazy plot to get rid of Buffy?

"This was all just her way of getting the Heart for herself," he shouted angrily. "Probably so she can go back in time and kill Buffy so the Mayor gets to be big Worm Demon of Sunnydale!"

"That’s not…" Faith began and then stopped. With a deep breath she turned to Dawn. "It’s not like that Dawn. Really. You’ve gotta believe me."

"Right. ‘Cause the credibility of a convicted felon is so…"

"No wait…" Dawn began but could only stare at Faith who wasn’t denying anything. So that meant she had been there just to get the Heart? All along. "I mean…Faith?" her voice broke. If she could have she would have gotten on her knees and pleaded with the Slayer to tell her it wasn’t true.

Dark eyes closed tightly and then opened to meet Dawn’s. "Okay… I did come here to get the Heart. but…"

"To use it," Xander interjected hotly and Dawn watched the Slayer’s jaw clench. Her knuckles, she noticed, were white around the hilt of the dagger.

"Yes." Faith admitted with a fierce look and Dawn was stricken by an overwhelming wave of nausea. "But not for that…not to help the Mayor…"

"Just to kill Buffy…"

"No!" Faith snarled turning the knife in her hand. She looked suddenly terrified as she glanced at the diary on the bed and Dawn wondered what she was afraid of. She had the knife after all. And the slayer strength to back it up. If this was really some revenge plot like Xander was saying. "I thought that if I could just…" she became agitated suddenly, her eyes looking inward as she played out some terrible memory. "He just came out of nowhere…that guy. Finch." Faith finished with a look of utter helplessness and shook her head. "And I thought, if I could change…you know… what I did that it might fix things…" she looked up obviously expecting a biting response from Xander, but he stayed silent crossing his arms. When Faith spoke she spoke to Dawn. "Between Buffy and me."

"Yeah, whatever. I knew we couldn’t trust you," Xander muttered low and Dawn wasn’t sure what to do. Who to believe. "The first chance you get…"

"I don’t really care what you think Xander. I could be Mother fucking Theresa and you’d still hate m-" Faith stopped suddenly making a motion for quiet, her head tilted slightly to the left. Dawn noticed that Xander’s mouth was still slightly open in an aborted retort.

"Wha-?" But a quick frown from the Slayer made her shut her mouth. Faith’s dark eyes were now scanning the shadows of the front yard, a grim smile slowly forming on her lips.

"Showtime." Faith said with another sad smile and Dawn swallowed the fear that was tearing through her like a storm. The yard was black and empty to her eyes, but she knew that on this thing to trust the Slayer. And that meant there were demons crawling toward the house under that blanket of dark. "Ready to be superheroes?" Faith asked gently as she tucked that terrible blade into its scabbard and fitted it into the waistband of her jeans.

All Dawn could think was, no._ No. I’m not ready. Yet. How is anyone ever ready for this?_


	9. Chapter 9

Wllow concentrated on her breathing, the unsteady in and out of it as Buffy stood above breathing in ragged tormented gasps. She was trying to concentrate on the words, but she was so tired. Exhausted. But she hadn’t really slept in months. And it felt like it was all catching up with her. Now.

It was the spell, she knew that. It wasn’t physical…technically. Although she felt herself drifting at the edge of consciousness. Barely hanging on as Buffy’s tone oscillated between anger and desperate grief. Her own muted emotions responded with defensiveness and then despair.

"You can’t…" Back to grief. And it was breaking Willow. The depth and pull of it. Taking even more of her precious energy. "Wil, I need you. Cordy said…there’s an apocalypse and Dawn’s in it and I need you…"

"No you don’t." She said with a sad smile. "There’s the coven and Giles and even Anya if you need a big gun in the magic department."

Deep lines formed between the Slayer’s eyebrows as she studied the redhead with obvious confusion. "No…that’s not what I meant," she ran a hand through her hair in her trademark gesture of agitated frustration. "I mean…I need my best friend."

"Since when?" she asked quietly. Evenly. "’Cause it looks to me like you’ve been fine all by yourself." She expected a defensive response, but Buffy was silent, her mouth open in shock.

"Wil, I know I’ve been kinda distant…you know in the sense of…" she paused, her brows knitting together in frustration. "In the sense of not really being a friend, but I’m trying. I want this back," she motioned to the space between them then let her arm drop to her side.

Willow looked up at the Slayer taking in her bleach blonde hair and the embroidered jeans of freshman year. This girl had been her best friend and her family. Had been everything to her and she had loved her with a fierceness that still took her breath away. But that Buffy had disappeared. Slowly. Or maybe in punctuated evolutionary steps of Glory and Joyce’s death. And she realized that the Willow her old friend was looking at was a different girl too. The sidekick and supportive friend she had tried so hard to regain in the future. That girl who eluded her still.

"Buffy, I’m not this girl anymore," she brought a fist to her chest with great effort and held the blonde’s gaze. "and…I don’t think I have been… for a long time. Even before…"

"What does that mean Willow. I mean… I don’t even know what you’re talking about because… I’m not this girl either..." Buffy looked crazed, her eyes wide as she looked around the room gesticulating wildly. "And do you think I want to leave Mom and go back there to that…that hell place where she isn’t…. I mean, even if Dawn is there…"

Joyce. She had thought about that at some point with some barely-connected part of her brain, but it had gotten lost in the overwhelming fact of Tara. "Oh god Buffy….I’m sorry…I didn’t…"

But her old friend waved her off, tears forming in her eyes. "S’okay…I mean, it’s not okay, but…there’s nothing I can do." She wiped at her nose with a shirt sleeve.

"Unless that was your second chance," Willow mumbled, trying to be hopeful for her best friend but failing miserably. Buffy’s eyes narrowed in concentration before growing wide.

"Oh, you mean I could make that my second chance….Mom." She grew thoughtful. "But I can’t change anything…unless I got her a different doctor or something…and even then…"

"No Buffy…your second chance," she tried to stop the Slayer’s rambling. "You made your choice when you cast the spell…whatever you were thinking then…I think…" she trailed off hoping that was enough. Because there wasn’t much left of her to speak with. Just an enormous empty space that seemed to be growing with every breath and second.

"Oh." There was a long silence as the Buffy glanced around the room, her eyes holding for more than a few breaths on the globe before returning to green. "So, my second chance is the problem." Willow was so stunned by the Slayer’s astute observation that she just stared into red-rimmed hazel eyes. "That’s what starts it… the apocalypse Cordelia saw?"

"Maybe. We don’t know…it could be anything," the redhead began, closing her eyes to stop the dizzying spin of the room. "It could be me." She finally managed through clenched teeth.

"Wil, please…" the blonde dropped to her knees in front of her, taking up her limp hands in her own.

"Buffy don’t…please." She couldn't look at her friend. Couldn't see those eyes that lead in only one direction.

Now the Slayer was angry, her jaw clenched in righteous rage the redhead knew so well.

"So that’s it," she demanded, her voice taut with a dangerous mix of anger and grief. "You’d rather just die here and leave us than–" the slayer stopped abruptly and she knew she should say something to fill the silence. To make her best friend understand.

But speech was becoming more and more difficult for Willow. Not just the physical act of mouths moving, but the psychological motions that propelled thoughts into words were slowing. She couldn’t seem to form a response, couldn’t gain access to that part of her brain anymore. Focusing again on the hazel eyes of her friend, she was surprised to find the Slayer studying her. And something like horrified recognition in the brown and green of them.

There were a few moments of silence that Willow couldn’t find the energy to break as they remained locked together. A single tear rolled down the Slayer’s cheek and into the silent moment between them and the redhead realized she would have been surprised if she had had the energy. Then the sound of a familiar voice, musical and warm.

"Willow’s not going to die." It was a terrible relief to hear those words. Like a wish she didn’t know she had. A vengeance wish with all of its chaotic potential.

"Buffy, if there’s anyth-th-thing you need to…t-t-take care of, you should go do it now," Tara continued without taking her eyes from Willow’s. There was a strong set to the blonde witch’s shoulders. She seemed to stand straighter. Taller. Much taller than Buffy. And despite the stutter her expression was placid. Resolute. Willow began feverishly working on her arguments as Buffy and Tara hugged again. This time there was no awkwardness. They held each other like old friends. And with a quiet ‘thank you’ for Tara, the Slayer was gone leaving the two of them alone in the room where everything had started. Alone with each other and the map of Willow’s unmaking.

****

**Part XIV**

Dawn was still numb. Still reeling from Xander’s accusations and Faith’s admissions. If Xander was right, Faith really was the back-stabbing bitch they had always told her she was. The Slayer was _evil_. She was conniving and manipulative and there was no room for the cool girl with the deep sad smile. No room for the memories of pain and fear the two now shared. For years now the world had been shrinking. People kept leaving and dying and the ones that remained pulled farther and farther into themselves. In this new world there would be no room for someone as big as Faith.

_Because what would Buffy do? If she was here. If she could talk to me._

That was easy. Her sister always did the same thing when it came to the dark Slayer. No matter what. And the small-world Buffy would never have trusted Willow either. Because there was only one Willow anymore and she had dark eyes and darker magic. All the other Willows lived somewhere else. In the world of the past where they could be trusted to stay what they were. Anya was right, her sister would have insisted that they seal them both away with the Heart to save the world. Because she didn’t trust anyone. Not her friends or fellow Slayer. Not even Dawn.

"Don’t even think this is over Faith," Xander growled behind her as she followed the Slayer down the stairs focusing on the powerful set of her shoulders hunched under the straps of a ‘borrowed’ black tank.

"It’s never over," she heard the Slayer mutter defiantly, but her shoulders slumped even further. And Dawn felt an echo of a memory of a similar exchange. Angry, accusing Xander and Willow. Faith outnumbered and outside again.

"Because as soon as Buffy gets back from…" he began only to be cut off by Anya.

"If she gets back at all," Anya crossed her arms when all eyes turned to her. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that? I’m just trying to be the voice of reason here. There is a high probability that Willow and Buffy won’t get back in time and that means Vra’al will get his Heart anyway," she gestured at the three of them with disdain. "And all of you will be dead for no reason. I mean, because look at us we’re not exactly an army here."

"Anya…"

"And that’s only if Willow’s little spell doesn’t tear a hole in reality before…"

"Anya!" Xander faced her angrily. "This isn’t helping."

"Oh! But you pissing off the only Chosen One we have left is such an important contribution…"

"But this is all her fault," he pointed at Faith who rolled her eyes. "If she hadn’t…"

"And if Buffy hadn’t…and if Willow hadn’t…and if you hadn’t…left me at the altar…" Anya replied in mocking tones before taking a deep breath to regain her composure. "You people are so into the blame! Like anything is ever that simple except of course, you leaving me at the alter because, hello. Promise. Broken. But even that doesn’t matter ‘cause we’re all going to die a very painful death anyway" She threw up her hands and turned to the weapons chest.

"The demon has a point," Spike added with a wry grin.

"Well, that’s just great!" Xander’s voice and body language was becoming more and more agitated, almost hysterical. "I for one believe that Buffy’s going to make it…"

"I just think we should all take one more look at this situation and think about why we’re doing this." She stared at Xander pointedly and then Spike. "Because hello, this is not what Buffy and Willow would want. Am I the only one who sees this? I mean, is this a human problem?"

There was a long silence as the vengeance demon’s words seemed to echo through the room. then a familiar gunshot’s reverberations rang out in the cramped hallway. Faith, Dawn noticed was now watching the yard, shifting her balance slightly from foot to foot. From heel to toe. The bandage over the deep wound on her arm was soaked through with blood. She knew from experience that Slayers weren’t bleeders, which meant that the wound was worse than it looked. Faith seemed to notice her attention and bent to attach a dagger over the bandage with thick silver tape.

"How long do we have," Faith asked without turning her attention away from her task. "’Til the end?"

"That’s like asking me how long it when you’re going to die. It could be in fifty years it…"

"Best guess," Faith interjected impatiently.

The vengeance demon shrugged. "An hour? Top end."

"Great, so we have to hold off an army of demons for an hour and hope that…" Xander was nearly shouting.

"See, this is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you," Anya chimed in.

"Okay, here’s the deal," Faith began, tossing a broadsword hilt-first to the vampire on the porch. She turned to Dawn and handed her the dagger at her belt without blinking. The one Buffy had used. The one with Faith’s blood still on it. "Plan’s still the same, but if Vra’al gets to the house you two run like hell. Okay?" she held Dawn’s arm in a firm grip. "Let him have his fucking Heart."

"Wait a minute, so if he makes it to the house you’re just gonna let him…" Xander began again stepping angrily toward the Slayer.

"No Einstein, if Big Demon gets to the house that means we’re all dead," Spike interjected coolly from the porch.

"But he’s not getting to the house," the Slayer continued with a smile that was much more like the old Faith. The wisecracking cool girl who sneaked Dawn out of the house to go on Patrol. Who trusted Dawn with secret terrible things. "Cause B and Red are gonna do their thing like they always do." She picked up a second, lighter sword, twirling it in her grip as her gaze turned from Dawn to the yard. "And then after we have a mega-demon smackdown," she winked and flipped the sword. "B can kick my ass and everybody'll be happy."

"Slayer! I have come for that which is mine," Vra’al’s booming voice shook the house and Dawn jumped. How did he do that? Appear from nowhere? The portal.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll be with you in a sec big guy," Faith shouted dismissively and turned to the group with a confident grin. "Good to go?" Everyone, even Xander returned her confidence with a nod and without a word they were moving toward their spaces, making the last preparations.

"Little Bit," Spike stood in the doorway looking at the floor between them. "Look, I know I can never make things right…" he began and then trailed off with a frown. "Bloody hell, just…light ‘em up Summers," he said with a shrug and tossed his Zippo. She wanted to say something, but he was gone. And that was probably a good thing because what was she going to say?

She looked for Xander and Anya, but they were gone. Probably off somewhere saying their goodbyes. Or not saying anything at all.

"Y’okay?" Faith asked softly, her brow furrowing in concern. Dawn nodded, but couldn’t seem to speak through the panic that was strangling her. Her heart was racing and she was sure she was going to throw up again. "Breathe." The Slayer was now taking deep breaths and Dawn felt her own body following automatically. "You know the drill right?" Another nod as she began to run through the mental checklist. It helped, somehow, to have that line of things that needed to be done. That she had to check off and complete. All of these things that lead to Buffy and Willow and everything back to normal. "I’m gonna buy as much time as I can, but when I give the signal…"

"I start the show," Dawn managed at the Slayer’s prompting. Faith smiled and then looked around nervously.

"Okay, so…" the Slayer began, but was cut off as Dawn threw herself into her arms.

"I know…I mean I don’t care you know…why," she couldn’t seem to get the words out and Faith was now rigid with fear in her arms. Slayers were terrified of the strangest things. "I’m just glad you’re here Faith." And now she was crying which just made her angry. All she had ever wanted was to be strong. For all of them.

"Slayer there is no need for bloodshed. Simply hand over my Heart and the Key."

Faith patted her back clumsily and pulled away. "Everything’s gonna be five by five D," she whispered. "Really." But her eyes were wet with tears as she turned toward the porch. "See, I totally agree with you on the no bloodshed thing," Faith spoke loudly to the demon and Dawn smiled as the Slayer’s gait was transformed in three strides to her cocky trademark swagger. "It’s just the whole you making demands part that’s so not gonna play."

Tucking the knife into her belt, Dawn moved quickly to the computer in the dining room and began the painstaking task of double-checking everything. Again. She could feel the hard leather and metal digging into her side, but this was the way the Slayer had worn it so she was determined to keep it next to her skin. Where it reminded her constantly of its location so she could find it if she needed it. Faith was barely visible through the dining room window and she could just make out her left arm and shoulder as the Slayer baited the enormous demon.

"So, how’s the eye Big Guy? I mean, ouch. That’s gotta hurt." Dawn didn’t hear the response, just a low rumble that must have been a demon growl. Vra’al was nearly invisible in the darkness of the front yard. Xander had nailed pieces of wood to the downstairs windows and left a horizontal strip for visibility. She hadn’t asked where the wood came from, but the kitchen counters were gone.

_Buffy is gonna be so pissed,_ she thought with a smile and turned out the overhead light to see the scene better, but the glare from the computer screen obscured almost everything. As the Slayer made her way off the porch, Dawn could just see Spike’s straight silhouette on her right. Anya, she knew, would be in the back yard waiting for rear attack. They looked so small against the growing crowd of demons. But Faith was still talking and that was a good thing. More talking meant less fighting and more time for Willow and Buffy.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped. "Sorry Dawn, I just…" Xander was frowning at the scene in the yard, but his eyes, when they met hers, softened into a crinkley smile. "Just wanted to let you know I was here," he whispered. "So you know the plan right?" But it wasn’t really a question. She knew this game. It was the get-ready game. The get-your-mind-off-the-impending-doom game the Scoobies always played. "As soon as we get the sign, we secure the house and get in position for Operation ‘Death from Above.’" He said the last words in an ominous tone and lifted a can of lighter fluid. And it was the old Xander. The one who always knew the right thing to say. She nodded and gave him a smile in return.

"Yep. Ready." She shrugged and returned her attention to Faith. He squeezed her shoulder and the weight of his hand was gone. She knew where he was going. To the door. It was his job to close it and throw the heavy medieval-looking bolt he had installed earlier. It was all part of the plan, but she hadn’t understood the finality of it until that moment. That Spike and Faith and Anya would be locked out. Would be separated from the two of them and the safety of the house. But she couldn’t think about that now. She needed to focus on the ‘things she needed to do.’ On the signal that would start everything.

The banter between Faith and Vra’al was inaudible. Dawn was so focused now on Faith and the signal that hadn’t been given yet. Her hand hovered above the keyboard as she waited. And waited.

Then without warning it happened. Between one second and the next Faith turned her hand slightly and shrugged. And time sped up again. Dawn heard the loud slam of the door and hit the button. And in the space between now and then all hell, literally, broke loose.

****

Willow couldn’t seem to focus anymore. The room was dim even though she could feel the heat of sunlight on her bare legs. Could hear the soft noises of Tara shuffling papers and rifling through bags and drawers.

_Spell ingredients_, she thought with a frown. So there wasn’t even going to be a discussion. Not like there was even a chance of that at this point…Tara didn’t have Willow’s trademark ‘resolve face’. She had resolve _self_. Argument was unthinkable when faced with an absolute truth held in flesh and bone.

"Tara I’m not losing you again." But she could try. Arguing. Because it was all she had against the terror of losing this. Against that glowing sphere that was growing darker and darker.

"I won’t watch you die, Willow," she began in a strong even tone that shifted to something softer, but just as determined. "Please don’t m-make me."

"You don’t have to watch. You can go somewhere…" but she knew already that this line of reasoning wasn’t…well, reasonable.

"We’re c-connected… and it hurts." The blonde frowned and arranged satchels of herbs in a semi-circle between them. "No m-matter where I am." And she could see it finally. The unfamiliar dark circles under blue eyes. And the desperation. She was hurting her. Again.

"You don’t understand Tara…"

"I d-don’t understand? So you’re going to make me?"

"No, that’s not what I meant. I would never put you through that. And you saw…this reality…that it isn’t exactly stable. It doesn’t really exist. You…we…we won’t remember any of this."

The blonde frowned and grew pensive. "But I felt it in the d-divination…affecting the other realities…and you said yourself that we d-don’t know…. It’s all tied together Willow."

She closed her eyes against the pain and incredible effort of speaking. "No, I don’t know…you’re right. But I know I can’t…it wasn’t living without you…there."

Tara nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly and studied the floor. "I want to remember all of this Willow. I don’t want to forget. Any of it."

Willow felt the tears slide down her face and cursed silently. This was taking too much energy. She wanted to hang on longer. Wanted to be with Tara for as many moments as she could steal.

"Willow," Tara began softly and took her hands. "Don’t make me stop you. Please."

"Tara…" she meant it to be the beginning of an argument. The start of a long explanation about her own enormous power and the blonde’s well-schooled, but untapped talent. Instead it emerged as a low keening as her body collapsed forward. Tara was right. In her weakened state she was no match for anyone. Not that she would allow that to happen. A confrontation. She would never hurt Tara. Would never allow that dark part of herself near the blonde.

Strong slender fingers held her face as warm lips glided over the wet of her cheeks. The swollen heat of her eyelids and mouth. "Your friends need you Willow. The world needs you." Willow shook her head, but let herself fall father into the blonde’s embrace. No one needed her, but how could she make Tara understand. "And I-I know you said…t-terrible things happened…but," she frowned in concentration before looking deep into the redhead’s eyes. "It doesn’t feel r-right. The things you’ve told me. It’s not supposed to be that way…I mean…" she trailed off finally, her fingers running through red hair. "I don’t feel that that’s what’s supposed to happen, you know?"

"But Tara, terrible things did happen. I can’t…you can’t…and I deserved it…all of it," the blonde stopped her with a kiss.

"Do you trust me Willow?" She nodded and allowed a small smile. There weren’t enough words for how much she trusted Tara.

"With my life," she said without thinking then smiled at her slip. And somehow, without her knowledge the decision had been made. She wanted to cry with relief.

"It’s going to be alright, sweetie. I’ll always be with you." So Tara knew about the decision too. The choice. But it probably wasn’t a choice to her. Just a fact she was trying to get Willow to accept.

"Tara, I know you probably won’t remember this, but…I need you know that no matter what happens…even if I…even if I hurt you…that I love you more than anything. Okay?"

The blonde was beaming. "You know, it’s so…I didn’t think I could ever fall in l-love with anyone…but this," she pressed her palm against Willow’s bare chest. "This Willow Rosenburg." She shrugged, a lopsided smile forming on perfect lips. "Then I met you."

"But…darkness and all?" Willow choked back a sob.

"Darkness and all," Tara confirmed with a nod and traced the redhead’s lips with her fingers, her eyes dancing with mischief. "So, um…Skyclad?"

Willow nodded into the soft touch, but she had no strength left to lift the fabric over her head. "A little help?"

"Vixen."

It was all the proof she needed. Better than any divination spell. That one word meant that reality could be a flexible thing and that maybe the worlds they had made weren’t so separate.

****

**Finale - Part I**

As Faith’s ‘fucked up idea’ screamed to life, Dawn took the stairs two at a time behind Xander to get into position in the upstairs bedrooms. The files of dolphin, bat and whale sounds she had downloaded and ripped from nature CDs had been high EQ’d for maximum sonic impact and were now at ear-splitting levels. And on top of it all was some hard techno song loop the slayer had insisted she add to the mix. It sounded like a rave in hell. Which it kind of was.

"I am so ready for my action hero moment!" Faith yelled as she approached the front line of demons with both swords drawn. Dawn quickly got into position at her bedroom window and hoisted the crossbow to her shoulder. The high frequency sonic assault was definitely having the desired effect on the demons. They seemed disoriented as the Slayer hacked her way through four of them with barely any resistance. Spike was busy dismembering a fifth on the other side of the yard. It almost seemed cruel. Until she thought about what was at stake. What they would do to them if they caught them.

Aiming the way Xander and Faith had shown her, she let a wooden bolt fly and yelled in frustrated rage as it splintered against the demon’s hard armor. "Fuck."

_Oh my god, I have to stop with the cursing before Buffy gets home or she’s gonna kill me. _

_If Buffy gets home…_

She started to yell for Xander for advice and realized that he wouldn’t hear her over the noise.

"Are you feeling me?" But she could still hear the Slayer as she slashed her way through a still-disoriented crowd of demons, her swords cutting through the air in blinding silver streaks of light. "’Cause I’m feeling you…oh yeah, you too baby." The now-familiar metallic screams made her skin crawl, but at least there were no more gunshots. Or the terribly ghostly wails of Willow’s grief to remind her that the redhead probably didn’t want to come back here. To this house where Tara wasn't. "Say my name bitch!"

She smiled a guilty smile at the Slayer’s comments. It was like some kind of slaying-induced Tourette’s Syndrome.

There was a small bundle of aluminum bolts near her foot that Xander had found stashed in the basement with some old photos. Not much use for metallic bolts when you were facing vampires. She dipped one in the coffee can full of lighter fluid and pulled Spike’s Zippo from her pocket. Remembering Xander’s instructions she let the shaft burn until it was too hot to hold. Carefully fitting it into the bow she lined up the shot as well as she could through the flickering blue flames and pulled the trigger. There was a terrible moment when she worried that she had aimed too close to Faith, but the Slayer continued unfazed. Dawn realized that she had missed. The demon she was aiming for moved and the precious bolt was wasted. She was about to pick up another one when a flare of light caught her eye. Another demon was flailing wildly with clawed hands as liquid fire poured from its chest. There was no explosion, no pyrotechnic display, but the demon, at least was an easy target for Faith who decapitated with one stroke.

Dawn gave herself a loud congratulatory yelp that was swallowed up in the cacophony of the battle before carefully lighting up another arrow. After setting up the shot, she watched panicked as the flaming bolt was deflected into a nearby bush that promptly burst into flames. Well, at least she could see a little better now.

"You feeling me now? Huh?"

She could see Spike and Faith cutting down demons with relative ease although the Slayer’s left arm was lowered slightly as if she was tired. Or the wound, maybe she was protecting it. Despite the problems it was definitely the smackdown the Slayer had predicted. Maybe they had a chance after all.

The sudden unmistakable sound of electronic feedback brought her gaze up to the trees on her right where they had tied one of the speakers. One of the Vra’al’s flying giant bat things was engaged in an epic battle with the inanimate black box. And if they took out that speaker, that meant the line to the backyard speakers would be broken and Anya would be alone with god-knows how many well-organized demons.

She raised the barrel of her crossbow and aimed at the winged demon and with a silent prayer to Tara and Mom and everyone she could think of, let the bolt fly. She didn’t see it hit the bat demon, but the loud scream and insane flapping as the inkblot thing struggled to the ground were confirmation enough.

Before she could congratulate herself another winged shadow replaced it. And with growing horror she saw that the other speakers were being attacked as well.

"Xander!" she screamed and knocked a wooden bolt into the shaft. No reason to waste metal bolts on these guys. They seemed pretty soft and not so flammable.

"Dawn!" She let the bolt fly as Xander stomped up behind her and allowed herself another victory squeal as it hit home.

"The speakers!" That was all she had to say. He fired two arrows before she had a chance to prepare another one. Two more shadows dropped, but there seemed to be a swarm of them. More like silent bees than birds. Or bat bees. Xander dropped three more of the winged shadows before a piercing electronic feedback scream tore through the demonic soundtrack and the right side of the yard fell silent. Dawn actually checked her ear before realizing that it was the speaker. And that meant…

"Holy frikkin’…okay, who turned off the music?" Anya screamed from the backyard before a loud hiss and the unmistakable drop in her voice as she got her vengeance demon on.

"Oh shit," Dawn muttered and fumbled with another arrow. There were only two speakers left and that meant the odds were definitely tilting in the other direction. A loud yelp brought her attention down to the yard where Faith dragged the shorter sword at her side from her injured arm.

"Go D!" Faith yelled with her usual bravado. Dawn could here the smile in her voice. That cocky, I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass smile that even now had the demons circling carefully. It was clear from their movements that the demons were communicating again. She thought she heard it a few times above the speakers that were still screaming that unholy soundtrack. The hiss and knock of an arrow from above and another winged demon fell from the sky.

"Flaming arrows Dawnie," Xander yelled in halting speech as he knocked two more arrows and let them fly. "Help Faith."

With a nod, she let the wooden bolt fly and heard the scream of another demon. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but the bat thing was forced to the ground where it could do no more damage to the speaker. Then it was the time-consuming process of lighting up arrows. This time three at once burned with a yellow flame as Dawn marveled at Xander’s skill with the crossbow. For every one she killed he took down at least four.

_See Buffy, if you had just let me train with the rest of you I’d know how to fight! I wouldn’t be a useless arrow-lighting betty!_

The arrow had burned too long and it singed her fingertips as she placed it in the shaft and lined up the shot. Faith may have been injured, but she was definitely holding her own. Two more demons lay at her feet while the others circled and the Slayer taunted.

" Yeah, you feeling me now." That jaunty head nod that made Dawn smile. One of the demons she noticed was squaring up on Faith’s left side, probably trying to take advantage of her injury. But his body was turned at an odd angle so she chose a bigger target to Faith’s right. Just as she pulled the trigger, he sprang falling on Faith in a screaming flaming heap. The Slayer extricated herself quickly, cutting off the arm of another as she leapt to her feet. "See boys, you mess with me, you mess with my whole fucking crew!"

More arrows sang through the air above her as Xander continued his own incredibly accurate version of Fiery Death from Above. He was chanting something as he effortlessly picked flying shadows from the air around them. With singed fingers Dawn knocked another flaming arrow and lined up a shot, this time aiming at one of the demon’s targeting Spike since Faith seemed to have everything temporarily under control.

"Come on Willow. Come on," she heard it just barely as the mp3 sequence reached the end of a loop. _Guess everybody’s praying tonight._

It made her feel lighter for some reason knowing that Xander was praying for Willow. Cheering her on after everything. She joined the chant and let the arrow fly. It didn’t hit the demon’s broad chest where she was aiming, but ended up sticking out of its right eye. Which was good enough.

"Come on Willow!" she screamed and gingerly grabbed another burning shaft. Xander she noticed, had stopped and was now regarding her with a rueful smile. Their eyes locked for a moment. Dawn shrugged and both of them began cheering with gusto. "Go Willow! Woo hoo! Come on Buffy!"

Four more shadows screamed to the earth as Xander and Dawn cheered in rhythm. "Brrr, it’s cold in here. There must be some Scoobies in the atmosphere!"

Another flaming arrow found its mark…well, almost. The shaft was buried deep in the thigh of a very angry demon who clawed at it with agonized screams as the flames spread over its armor. Faith dispatched him with one deep sword thrust and looked up at their impromptu cheering with a smirk.

"Come on B!" She brought her injured sword arm around surprising the demon to her left and decapitating him with ease. "You better hurry or you’re gonna miss all the fun!"

Dawn knocked another arrow and began a new cheer surprised when Xander joined in. "Go Slayer, go Slayer go…"

Faith seemed to find a reserve of energy somewhere turning on the circling demons with renewed fury. It was like the cemetery again. The scene was lit by the moonlight and the eerie flicker of the burning hedges as the Slayer attacked the demons with everything — head, elbows, shins and metal. Anything and everything she had went into the battle as the lizard men continued to fall. Dawn’s newfound enthusiasm began to fade as she watched more demons wander in to replace their fallen brothers. Or sisters. Or…whatever. They were still coming which meant there was a portal open somewhere. She aimed at one of the newly-arrived demons hitting him squarely in the chest.

"Go Dawnie!" Xander yelled with a smile and fired another arrow. Dawn couldn’t help but smile. She was definitely getting better at this. Maybe she was making a difference after all.

A piercing scream tore through the house from the backyard and every muscle in Dawn’s body locked up at the inhuman, but still familiar voice.

"Anya!" Xander dropped his crossbow, his eyes wide as he picked up a double-headed axe near the door ran down the hall.

"Oh god," Dawn turned back to the window, but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t seem to aim. The sound of an enormous crash ripped through the house. Xander. He hadn’t wasted time on the stairs, crashing through the windows in her room into the backyard to save his ex-fiancée.

Dawn took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. There were so many demons now and more seemed to be arriving every second. Another loud feedback scream and they were left with only one speaker obscured by a cloud of black shadowy figures. The speaker’s output was barely enough to cover the sounds of the battle now. She could hear the Slayer’s grunts and the ring of swords against hard body armor. And worse, now she could hear Willow’s terrible wailing above it all.

She aimed at the swarm around the speakers and hesitated. There was no reason to waste precious ammunition on the puny speaker that remained. Better to help Faith and Spike. Through the shimmering heat of the arrow she lined up the shot and took down a demon approaching the Slayer from behind. She reached quickly for another bolt trying to emulate Xander’s lightning-fast reload technique.

"Xander are you insane!" Anya’s desperate and terrified scream cut through the room like a knife. " You have far too many soft parts to be down here…"

"An…"

The rest of the conversation was lost as the window exploded around her in a shower of glass and wood splinters. Still in shock and blinded by the dust and shrapnel from the explosion, Dawn huddled against the bed frame blinking wildly as she tried to understand what had happened. A bomb? Magic?

"Dawn!" Faith was screaming her name between the grunts of battle, but the teen couldn’t see the window much less the yard. Feeling her way across the floor to the window, Dawn felt the debris and shards of glass digging and cutting into her knees and hands. And her face was on fire.

"Faith?" she croaked and then felt something like iron cut deeply into her shoulders then pressure hot and hard. She tried not to but she couldn’t seem to help screaming as she was lifted by that terrible pain in her shoulders up and out of the room. And for the second time in that long night she found herself airborne, screaming her guts out, but this time she was blind and Faith couldn’t rescue her now. She heard the Slayer’s voice growing faint as the demon carried her farther and farther from home.

****

They had been lying naked together in the circle for minutes and days. Willow could feel the golden heat of Tara’s skin, could hear the low indistinct murmuring of her voice. The words were indecipherable, but she knew that there were ‘I love you’s and ‘forevers’ in every soft syllable. Bare legs were entwined and Willow felt soft lips flutter over her eyelids and cheek. She wanted more contact, but knew she would never find the energy to make it happen. But the connection, there was no need for words with Tara. With a smile she imagined the blonde kissing her, on top of her, inside her and heard a low chuckle.

"I don’t think that’s part of the ritual." Then soft lips on her own. She wanted to argue or prove her wrong, but the world had gone all hazy and warm. Reason and words were useless in this place of raw floating sensation. Because she was almost gone, slipping in and out of consciousness as time breathed around them. So she focused on the bright standout things that she could still touch. Salty kisses and the wet slide of skin. And singing. Tara singing something light and sweet. Maybe a lullaby although it was one she had never heard her sing before.

Another warm slip and she was, for a moment, in a different room with Tara, but the same. A different time then. An awkward first kiss that wasn’t the one they had shared. A new impossible memory. With a deep inhale she rolled back into consciousness. Dying. She was dying. That’s what this was.

And she knew what the song was now. It was an incantation and they were slipping into that other realm of dreams and super-dimensions. Tara guiding her gently out of herself. Willow wanted to stay in the physical, but she couldn’t find the place to hold on to. All the edges that made things real had become slippery and vague. As she drifted away from the physical plane she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was so much easier here and Tara was everywhere. Both of them home in this space where everything was energy that spoke in the languages of color and constants.

But there was one constant that would no longer be. Because Tara would be nowhere again after this. There would be a world without her where time crept along in cold hard steps. And that was wrong. Willow began reflexively to pull away in terror and in that moment she saw it. The other solution to this impossible equation. It was so beautifully simple because she was there already. She watched with growing detachment as her own essence curled away from her in a thin glowing spiral and mingled with the Heart’s dark magic. It would be so easy to control it. The Heart. She could give them any future they wanted. Anything. And it was her destiny. She felt it. Somehow she was tied inextricably with this device and it’s terrible spell. She and Tara. Everything in her life had led to this point. All the deaths and love and grief dragging her inexorably to this place where realities and magic were boiling into a sea of potential. This was where she belonged. This was the reason it felt so familiar. The Heart was hers.

In the way of that dimensionless space, the more she thought about the Heart’s center the closer it became. And the more her connection to Tara diminished. She could feel the blonde’s fear and shock flare bright and then grow faint as the swirling dark of the Heart engulfed her in its metallic cold. It was necessary she knew, to sever their connection briefly for this to work. For her to become one with her fate and keep Tara safe. Then she could be with her love forever. And it would be so easy. She was already growing stronger, more powerful. The flow of energy reversed as the dark magic flowed into her.

Through the lens of the Heart’s magic she could see time opening up in every direction. Folding out around her like a three-dimensional kaleidoscope that she could step into with just a thought. She could see it all. The Willow that was and could be. The Tara that might have been. The two of them that should have equaled always. And it was all hers like vague memories that grew more distinct and tangible as she focused on the details. This was the fulfillment of all the promises the dark had whispered to her. This was the power she had glimpsed in terrifying hints and glances. And it wasn’t evil. How could it be when it led her back to Tara?

As the power roared into and through her, she reached out to taste the universe in all of its potentialities. Spinning through events that had and hadn’t occurred, that would and would not be she felt a glitch in what should have been the most perfect moment — their first kiss. As she focused down the déjà vu loop of that point in time made everything stand still. The Heart. She had used it before and forgotten. The memory erased by the spell’s reordering of time and events. Their first kiss hadn’t happened at all. She and Tara hadn’t….but they had.

_That’s why Tara was studying Occum’s Heart. She knew somehow…without any memory she knew. My beautiful brilliant girl…_

It was like losing the blonde all over again. Willow stretched out with her mind to see the immensity of she and Tara that brought the glowing blur to a screaming pause. In almost every possible universe they were together in some way. But the Heart had altered things and it sat now buried inside its own spell creating another feedback loop that she hadn’t seen. That didn’t appear on any map because it wasn’t supposed to exist.

_This is not good. So not good. I could have killed us all. Who am I kidding? I still could. I mean, hello, end of the world stuff here…_

A familiar warmth passed through her, engulfed her briefly and was gone. Tara. The blonde had taken advantage of that small moment of indecision to break through. But just for a moment. Leaving Willow with nothing but the Heart’s frigid dark. All those past and future memories and no Tara.

She knew in that moment what was so familiar about this place and its magic. It was grief. It was that terrible night of retribution and sorrow bound and compressed into a space so small it could warp time. It was the utter and complete absence of the warmth and light that was Tara. And she was about to give herself to it again.

She didn’t have the strength to pull away, but she could continue with her original plan, unmake herself and change everything. With what little strength she had left, Willow began the steps that would separate her magic from the Heart’s and allow her to die safely inside the world she had made with the Heart’s magic. The first and most difficult obstacle was the dark magic now pouring into her. Her own indecision and Tara’s brief intervention had slowed the onslaught, but it was there. Tempting and terrifying and she knew she couldn’t stop it completely. So she worked around it. Literally. Withdrawing her own energies from the spell, allowing this fragile space to contract slowly. It was excruciatingly tedious work because the sudden removal of her energy would be disastrous. She worked carefully to retract herself from the spell, but she was quickly reaching the threshold. That point on the event horizon of this place from which there was no return. That line that separated life and death. And not just her own death. The end of an entire reality.

The darkness still surrounded her still streaked through with golden red remnants of her own energy. The last shreds of herself that had to be removed before the darkness and the end would finally claim her. And that seemed appropriate somehow after everything she had done. All of her failures. Her deepest wish was another chance to say goodbye to Tara and she was denied even that. Because she had given in. Again.

_How many times can I fail you Tara?_

The deep cold of the dream space around her blurred and shifted into the barren landscape of her childhood nightmare -- the cold endless world of alone. Willow stood on a long, low plain, the dark thunder clouds of the spell’s energy gathering above her as the deep red sun slipped slowly toward the horizon. Nice cliché she thought and cleared her mind for the final withdrawal from the world.

_Oseh shalom bim'romav, hu ya'aseh shalom, aleinu v'al kol yisrael v'al kol yoshvey teveil, v'imru amein._

It came unbidden to her mind, the mourner’s kaddish. Not for herself. For the world that was dying with her. For everything and everyone she had lost. Tara, Joyce….Buffy.

_Oseh shalom bim'romav, hu ya'aseh shalom, aleinu v'al kol yisrael v'al kol yoshvey teveil, v'imru amein._

It was all she could remember from the kaddish and all she needed. Its sad tones echoed back to her in the voices of her grandmothers, her father and finally her own voice clear and small. As she slipped the last of herself from the knot of the Heart’s magic she repeated the prayer in her mind like an incantation. Her final spell.

_May the one who maketh peace in the high places, make peace for us and for all Israel and all who dwell in the world, and let us say, amen._

The heavy sing-song of it echoed over the empty surfaces of that world and she knew that she was crying somewhere. Maybe in that circle with Tara back in that perfect room. Maybe everywhere in every time.

_Blessed be. _

As the sun slipped below the dream horizon and the storm began its steady collapse around her a faint glow filled the sky golden and shimmering and…Tara. Everywhere and always.


	10. Chapter 10

"Mom!" Buffy stood panting in the empty downstairs hallway. The red Cherokee was in the driveway so her mother hadn’t gone to work or the grocery.

"Mom?" She tried not to panic, but couldn’t shake the fear that something had happened. That Tara had reversed the Heart’s spell, returning her to that terrible future house with no mother and no hope. But that wasn’t possible. The signs of her mother’s presence were everywhere. A lilac sweater draped over the armchair, the subtle hints of the familiar perfume. And the pictures. There were none of Dawn. Just portraits of Buffy and her mother lining the walls.

The fridge, she thought of her mother’s longstanding rule with sudden inspiration and stalked through the house to the kitchen.

Buffy,

Gone for a quick walk. Be back in a few minutes. I bought blueberry muffins (your favorite). Please eat something. You’re too thin!

Love,

Mom

Buffy studied the soft looping lines of her mother’s handwriting. The careful way she left exactly the same amount of space between each line. Reaching out she traced the ‘Love, Mom’ with shaking fingers and swallowed a sob. After a few moments of indecision, she removed the bright pink Post-it from the door and folded it carefully before sliding it into her pocket. She knew it was pointless, that she couldn’t take anything with her from this world, but she could try.

After pouring herself a cup of coffee and trying in vain to eat a few bites of muffin, she retreated to the back steps to wait for her mother. The house and the kitchen held too many painful memories of the past and the future, so she sat on the cool concrete and waited. Studying the soft reds and peaches of the treasured roses she willed her mother to come home as quickly as possible. Because the light, that golden light of morning was tugging her into another time. The house and yard seemed to glow with it The same light as that day she had come home to find the body on the couch. And another day with Xander in the back yard when everything had gone so horribly wrong.

A brief overwhelming memory of her recent good-byes with the younger Tara brought tears to her eyes. That was the last time she would ever see the blonde who had meant so much to them all. Especially to Dawn. And Willow.

With a frown, she took a sip of the strong coffee to steady herself and scanned the lush green of the yard. It wasn’t this color in the future. Not this lush emerald green.

Probably because there’s no Dawn here to not water it, she thought with a wry smile. A fleeting smile played at her lips as she thought of the gentle teasing Tara would give Dawn about the lawn. The brown patches and yellowed sections. One side over-watered while the other dried out in the withering California heat.

Tara and Dawn. And her mother. So strange that they were all connected in her mind. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. The blonde was family. Buffy had said it herself. Once. Strange that when Tara was alive she had only ever thought of her as Willow’s. Only after the blonde’s death did she notice how much she was everyone’s. Dawn’s and Anya’s and maybe even her own. And that brought the guilt.

No. Don’t go there. Mom’s coming home soon…don’t waste this...

This would be the last time she saw her mother and she wanted it to be right. No sadness or wigginess, just the two of them again. Even if that was wrong because she loved Dawn, but she needed this. Because she was going back to that hard place where Tara and her mother weren’t. All the gentle things were gone in that world and she wondered for the thousandth time why she was fighting so hard to return. Nothing soft was waiting for her there just the hard steel of weapons and pain

And Dawn. Back to Dawn.

But that wasn’t something she wanted to think about either. Nope. She was feeling very territorial about this time with her mother. These moments were hers. And as much as she loved her sister, there were only so many things she could sacrifice.

Without thinking Buffy had risen to her feet and was now walking over the springy green toward those gorgeous rose bushes. Dawn and Tara had worked so hard to keep them the way her mother had, watering and fertilizing them religiously. Hours and hours of hard work, but staring at them now, she could tell they weren’t the same. There were years of love and care in those soft petals and steely thorns. Years of her mother invested in them.

"Buffy? Oh good, I wasn’t sure you were coming back." Surprised by the sound of her mother’s voice she turned to find her surrounded in a golden halo like an angel. Or a ghost. There was so much ground between them and the light. The world seemed to shift slightly. "If you can stay, I’ll make us some burritos for lunch…"

"Mom?"

Because her mother was standing right where he had stood on that day. And Buffy was…

She looked up to the windows above. Her mother’s room. And Willow and Tara’s. The glare on the glass was nearly blinding, but she could just make out the faint outline of Tara looking down at them. Then the sudden electrical storm of her Slayer senses going into overdrive, the adrenaline pumping strong and fast.

"No! Tara. Get down!" she shouted at the blonde without thinking. Because suddenly it was that day. That day she had relived a million times. Measuring the steps between herself and Warren over and over while she was mowing the yard. Calculating the angle of the gun at that moment. The trajectory of a stray bullet that shouldn’t have been. If she had just done her job…

"Buffy what’s wrong?" Her mother followed her line of sight and then looked back to Buffy. "Who’s Tara?"

"Oh god, I…" A series of loud, quick gunshots shook her to the core and she leapt to protect her mother, clearing the space in a moment to shield her fragile body. She looked frantically for a wound, but there was no blood and a quick scan of the yard revealed that there was no one, just the two of them. But the upstairs window was marred by a single bullet hole and that meant… "The spell."

"What spell? Buffy…" Her mother looked terrified as she searched her daughter’s face for an answer and Buffy felt the tears streaming down her own face. This was it. She could feel the magic around them like an electrical charge.

"Mom I have to go." It took all of her strength to hold back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her completely. But she didn’t want to ruin these last moments with grief and anger. And guilt. She wanted to be able to say a real good-bye to her mother. Finally.

"I thought so honey." A brave crooked smile. "I figured you’d have something fun to do today. But you know, if you’re not too busy, maybe we can get together next week sometime…"

The barely masked disappointment in her mother’s voice broke her heart.

I was horrible. I was a terrible, awful daughter. I deserved to lose her.

"No Mom. I mean," she looked deep into her mother’s eyes and took her hands in her own as the sounds of Willow’s grief-filled wailing filled the yard. "I have to go."

Willow’s cries stopped suddenly, but Buffy could still hear her best friend. The redhead’s voice was soft and child-like and she was chanting something in a language the Slayer didn’t recognize. Except one word. ‘Shalom.’ Willow had told her what it meant once. The chanting began again, sad and calm. A spell?

Her mother seemed oblivious to the ghostly sounds and the magic, but after a moment of confusion her expression changed. There was no more disappointment as she studied her daughter’s features, just the slow steady amazement of recognition. Followed by a sad smile. She reached out and tucked a wayward strand of Buffy’s blonde hair behind one ear and a sob erupted from the Slayer’s slim frame.

"My beautiful brave girl," her mother said with a fierce gentleness and pulled her into a strong embrace. The smell of flowery perfume overwhelmed her and she let go of everything, crying into that strong soft shoulder. As her mother squeezed her she felt a familiar cold stretching and held on tight. There was too much left unsaid. Too many things she wanted to share with her mother that would be lost forever.

No. I’m not ready. Please…

She understood in that moment why Willow wanted to die. Because she would have given anything to stay there with her mother. Forever. This was heaven. She was sure of it and she didn’t want to leave it again.

"I love you. You know that right?" she cried in desperation against the perfectly pressed silk and felt her mother mumble her assent. But the world shifted in a nauseating earthquake of un-movement and it was a different shoulder. Scratchy cotton against her cheek and the perfume was gone replaced by the familiar scent of drugstore after-shave.

"Buffy —" Xander’s voice was full of panic, his arms going stiff around her. And the light… Her first thought was for her mother. The awful knowledge that she was gone. That this was a different day of grief and pain. But this day didn’t happen for a year at least. Why was she…

Second chance. Oh god…I can’t do this. I can’t…

Out of the corner of her eye she could just make out the faint outline of Tara in the upstairs window.

"No!" As her own terror peaked into absolutely fury, the Slayer within took over. Reacting from memory, from the movements remembered and rehearsed a thousand times, she pushed Xander aside and moved beyond herself as the Slayer was unleashed.

The world became a blur of golden light and the black hard lines of the gun as she cleared the distance between them in the space between heartbeats. He was saying something. Screaming at her in selfish rage, but the words were meaningless to the demon inside her. The pop of the gun rolled out in a long, rumbling tone as the stinging heat and pinch of pain tore through her abdomen. Then the hard break and satisfaction of contact as the two of them crashed to the ground. The gold dimmed and the world slowed. She could hear Xander’s cries and another voice familiar and wild that shouldn’t have been there.

Faith? No. That wasn’t possible.

As the cold descended Buffy thought of her mother and was surprised to feel no grief. And for once, no guilt. Just peace.

That’s what ‘shalom’ means. Peace, she thought with a smile and stretched into the cold dark searching for heaven. Searching for home.

****

Something wasn’t right. The faint glow around her had grown slowly in intensity and the world hadn’t ended. Willow brought a hand up to her face. It was faint and indistinct, but still there. Still her energy.

Something definitely is not right here.

The thunderclouds boiled just above her head and the sun had disappeared long ago beneath the horizon, so why was she still here? In the crepuscular light of the deserted plain all she could think was,

I can’t even get this right.

She should be gone to wherever people went when they died. And this whole reality bubble should have collapsed by now releasing Occum’s Heart to finish the spell. But something seemed to be holding her there, propping up the space around her. Something…

The world shifted and it was a familiar room with dark walls and slowly spinning globes of tiny lights.

Willow. We had a deal.

It took only a moment of concentration to feel the connection that had never really been severed. And the energy drain. It was there a faint thin thread ascending from her abdomen to the dark clouds that hovered near the ceiling.

Tara?

Yes sweetie, I thought I lost you.

The memory of warm hands held her face and she felt the slow murmur of lips on her own. Pulling back she felt the scene shift again along with Tara’s face in that fluid way of the dreamspace. The blonde’s face seemed to slide easily from her younger, shyer visage to the more mature lines. And the room was now the deep reds and browns of their world in the Summers house, but the storm clouds still hovered above.

So did I. But how? I mean...

The room shifted again and it was the slow rocking weightlessness of the two of them dancing, floating above the floor of the Bronze on Tara’s birthday.

The connection. It’s still there.

Another shift and they were lying naked in a room Willow didn’t know. A hotel room? Angel’s hotel. It wasn’t a memory she recognized, but it was still Tara. Familiar so it must be another kind of memory. This reality bleeding into that other one. Warm and soft and electric. And it was getting so hard to focus. To hold on.

Another shift and it was a cold night on the rooftop with the stars overhead and the warmth of Tara beside her. The stars weren’t fixed though. They moved slowly, rearranging themselves into new constellations that she knew she should recognize. Tara’s hand came into her vision drawing patterns in the night sky as her lips fluttered against a cold ear.

Willow I can’t hold on much longer, you have to finish this.

I can’t…I don’t have the energy.

She lied. Because it was all slipping away and this was how she wanted to remember it. She didn’t want to go back to that empty place.

Willow…

It was Tara’s most disapproving tone. And that, she thought, might be a fate worse than death.

You can borrow some of mine. You already are.

The world shifted back to that room with the fairy lights and the dark walls that were safe and warm. The blonde sat cross-legged before her, their knees brushing shyly as they held hands for a spell. Willow could see the connection between them vivid and shimmering.

I can’t...

Another slip and they were in the Summers’ house again, lying in bed as the sunlight streamed in through the windows. Their foreheads were touching and Willow could feel the heat between them, the breathless panting. They had just made love and the room was still glowing with it.

You have to let go baby. She felt a light kiss on her forehead and a cool hand on the heated skin of her chest just above her heart. I’ll always be with you.

Extending her senses she could feel the cold dark pressure of the spell just beyond the room. There was no use resisting. She didn’t have the energy and Tara wouldn’t withdraw until her own energy was depleted as well. The blonde would sacrifice herself for Willow.

I’m so scared Tara.

I know sweetie, a warm hand smoothed her hair back behind one ear. But I’m right here. I’m not leaving.

Taking Tara’s hand in her own Willow began the final steps to sever their connection and return to the present. Carefully withdrawing her own energy from the Heart’s magic and finally, beginning the dangerous work of removing the spell embedded within. Their first kiss. It had to be erased to avoid creating a singularity, a feedback loop of apocalyptic proportions. With the last of her own energy and some of Tara’s she stabilized the spell, but the pain of it was unending. She could see that moment in all of its bittersweet joy and awkward perfection. And suddenly they were standing there in Tara’s room in that moment. Both of them with tears in their eyes as they studied each other with shy intensity.

Tara I know you’re in love with me.

Since the first time I saw you.

It was a different room now, another new memory. An apartment full of light. Their apartment? Dark wood floors and sunshine and they were making love in the middle of the living room floor, unopened boxes piled around them. Hot and loud and no one to worry about. Just the two of them and all of those empty rooms, sighs and moans reverberating through that space that was all theirs.

Tara I can’t

The words echoed through the dreamtime and the world shifted again. Back to that room where it had all ended. Tara was wearing a black leather jacket, her hair held back as she studied Willow with a possessive fierceness. Claiming her all over again even though she was the dark witch. The nobody girl.

I’ll never leave you Willow,

Another quake in the dreamscape and it was day, the sun streaming in the windows of that ending room as Tara stood before the windows in a halo of soft. That light blue shirt, her hands in back pockets as the two of them held each other’s eyes for long minutes. There was no blood. Just that moment stretching out as the distance between them diminished.

Do you trust me?

They were in each other’s arms in front of that terrible window, but there was no gunshot. The connection between them lived and breathed.

With everything.

Willow searched for the last threads of herself and felt them shimmering bright and strong like electric spider silk unraveling itself from the darker energy of the Heart’s spell. And Tara glowing full around her.

The room was dim now, lit only by a few candles. Tara lay over her, her hot weight pulling the universe down to the impossible, irrefutable fact of them. The only thing that ever mattered. Really.

I love you.

Both of them together because there was no line between them anymore. Running her fingers over the wet warmth of the blonde’s face Willow smiled into a forever kiss and fell into that new moon blue as she finally let go.

****

Dawn was flying. It should have been a wonderful and exhilarating experience. And it probably would have been if she wasn’t held aloft by two steely claws that were currently digging into her shoulders and back. Or more specifically, that soft fleshy part right above the collar bone.

She stopped screaming after they cleared the front yard and Faith’s voice had grown faint. She still couldn’t see clearly. No amount of blinking helped to clear what felt like sand from her burning eyes. The world was a blur of dark and the flickering yellow of the yard. As far as she could tell they had circled the yard twice, probably to torture and distract the Slayer and Spike who screamed her name as she dangled high above.

I’m like one of those poor slimy worms I made Dad put on the hook when he took us fishing. Yuck.

Just like those poor squirming things. Without all the slime and green worm guts. Or Dawn guts. But there was definitely blood, so maybe a little with the slime. She could feel it warm and wet against her shirt. And that was terrifying and definitely not of the good, so…best not to think about that. Somehow she found the strength to quit screaming, afraid that it was making things worse for her friends below. Even though the pain in her shoulders was terrible. And something was digging into her side. A third claw? But it felt kind of familiar.

Oh my god, the knife!

The image of the wicked double blade caked with Faith’s blood flashed in her mind and she froze at the thought of it, worried that the demon could somehow read her mind. What if it suddenly decided to reach down and have a bite of Key for a snack? And there was the added problem of her arms which were currently hanging useless at her side. Moving them even slightly made her shoulders erupt in searing pain. The fingers of her left hand were tingling and a few were numb. She remembered a conversation between Willow and Xander about pinched nerves and the Vulcan death grip. Whatever that was.

After an excruciating wiggle test, she found that her right hand was definitely tingly, but not numb.

Okay, time to be tough like a Slayer.

She steeled herself and jerked her hand up, but the wall of pain that sliced through her shoulder almost made her pass out. It took her another minute for her to regain her composure. So that wasn’t going to work. Maybe Faith could get to her once this thing landed. If it landed.

And is this some kind of bat-demon joyride? I mean, hello, why aren’t we landing?

So no one can rescue you.

The knowledge swept through her like ice water. This thing was going to fly her around up here until everyone was dead and then bleed her to open a portal to god knows where. Not like there would be much blood left at this rate. She had to find a way to get to that knife before she passed out. Just a few inches. That was all she needed.

"It’s just pain. It’s just your brain telling your body that it’s been hurt." It was her sister’s voice. Buffy trying to calm her on the way to the hospital after that night she had broken her arm. That awful night with Willow…

"Yeah, I get that, but could you tell my brain to keep its voice down." She said aloud and then tried to center herself the way Tara had taught her. The deep breathing and relaxation techniques that were supposed to help her focus. She felt something scrape the soles of her sneakers and looked down to see the top of a tree then a bright orange roof and an ancient plastic Santa just inches beneath her feet.

The Miller’s house. They never took their Christmas decorations down. And that meant she was right across the street. Behind Vra’al. Behind enemy lines. But if she could get this thing to let go of her, she could land safely on the roof and make her way back to the house. Sucking in a long, steady breath, Dawn tried to center herself again, remembering the soft tones of Tara’s voice as she counted down from ten.

Just let yourself sink into it. But that had never worked for her. She always got distracted. Random thoughts about school or Buffy or even what she had lunch would lead her off into…

Hello! Like now! Focus!

With an audible groan she tried again, this time letting her thoughts drift to one of those lessons. The smell of jasmine and herbs as Tara chanted soft words of encouragement.

Oh. Wow. That's what Tara meant.

Okay, less centered, more floaty. Like she had stepped outside herself. The pain was still there, but farther away. Much farther away.

Still floating, Dawn concentrated on moving that hand up to her waist without breaking the fragile calm she had found. And it worked, although it took her a few moments to notice that her hand was now clutching the grip somewhere far away.

Okay, now what?

She really hadn’t thought this through beyond the point of actually getting the knife from her waist. Stabbing was definitely in order, but that was going to require strength and less floatiness. A lot less. And a different kind of focus. Like a Slayer. Holding onto as much of that floating painless space as she could, Dawn called up everything she could to find her inner Slayer. Even if she wasn’t chosen, maybe she could fake it. Maybe a little bit of that Slayerness had rubbed off after all these years.

A loud yell pierced her consciousness and she knew instantly that Faith had been wounded again. Badly. Nothing could make the dark Slayer scream like that.

"Motherfucker you are so going to pay!" Faith’s voice was a deep growl, but Dawn could hear the panting desperation behind the words.

The thought of the Slayer’s pain and suffering brought a white flash of anger that swiftly melted into rock-hard resolve. They didn’t deserve this. Tara, Faith, Buffy, Xander …Willow. None of them deserved this. And it was all just a stupid accident anyway. The Heart. But Faith was going to die in their front yard and she was going to die too before Buffy and Willow could even…

"Motherfucker!" Dawn screamed, borrowing more than a little of the Slayer’s fury as she drove the knife up into the demon’s rough underside. The first blow glanced off some kind of leathery armor, but the second sank in up to the hilt and the teen was rewarded with a deafening metallic scream as her own pain ripped through her like a flaming arrow. Withdrawing the knife, she ignored the blinding pain and drove the blade up again, blacking out momentarily as the demon withdrew the knife-like claw from her left shoulder.

Another stab and the grip on her right shoulder loosened, leaving her dangling from the demon’s partly retracted claw high above the ground. Still partially blinded, she kicked her legs in the air and hoped for the Miller’s roof as gravity claimed her.

It was a relatively short fall. Maybe ten feet. But this was definitely not the Miller’s nice flat terra cotta roof. Dawn felt the whip and bump of branches tearing at her clothes and skin as she continued to descend. Then the bone-shaking thump as she landed precariously on what proved to be an enormous branch. Scrambling furiously she somehow managed to grip smaller branches with numb fingers and held on.

Okay, ow!

No part of her body was pain-free. Her eyes, face, arms, shoulders and now her butt were all throbbing at different frequencies. At least she was off the demon hook.

So no more story of the poor little worm Dawn on the demon hook. Now it’s the Key stuck up a tree…

Her vision, at least, seemed to be improving. She could make out the amorphous forms of demons in the distance framed by blocks of darkness that had to be houses. A new tree standing in front of her house slowly coalesced into the unmistakable form of Vra’al, his back to the teen as he surveyed the battle. Straining, she tried to make out the Slayer and Spike, but there were only dark shadows twisting to the sounds of battle. Something warm and sticky dripped onto the bare skin of her leg and Dawn looked down to find blood covering her ripped jeans.

She didn’t have to search long to find the source of the blood. Her shoulders were a sticky mess of pain and she knew that getting to the Med Kit was going to be impossible. Loud rustling beneath her caused her to freeze in place. Holding her breath, she watched a line of demons walk from some place beneath her toward the battle.

Oh God, if they see me or smell me or…whatever. I’m so dead.

Scanning the area for an escape route she tried not to groan with disappointment when it became apparent that the only way out was up. Or down. Spike’s primal scream made her lose her balance momentarily, but she managed somehow to stay on her hard-won seat. The vampire was obviously in serious pain, if not completely dusted. One more person in pain. One more person gone. Even if he was…what was he anyway? She had thought she knew him. Then he had done that. To her sister. Nothing made sense anymore. And there was definitely no talking about it with anyone. Definitely not now.

Willow please…

It took her a moment to realize what that warm tickle on her elbow was. Blood. Blood dripping onto demons emerging from their portal. And they were sure to feel it or smell it and discover her hiding place.

Shit!

She quickly cupped her elbow with her right hand to stop the flow of blood, but her hand she realized in a wave of nausea was also sticky with blood. More drops fell through the branches and Dawn swallowed hard. She watched the emerging demons with dread as the blood dripped down. But it never reached them. The air beneath her flickered with blue light and she felt that overwhelming sense of something opening inside her. Like before with Faith. But different. More like another day that she hadn’t been able to think about since.

The portal.

The blood continued to drip from her hands and she was helpless to stop it as the portal reached out to her with its electric fingers.

That day. That night with Glory. The memory had been too tied up with Buffy’s death. Her sister’s sacrifice. It was a place in her mind that Dawn hadn’t been able to touch since. But now she remembered it all. The strong slow pull of the between. Her skin was hot with it. Because that’s what a portal really was. An almost. A threshold between. And her blood was the yes or no.

She wasn’t a Key. Key was the wrong word and she knew that now. Because she wasn’t a green ball of energy anymore. She was a girl and girls got to make choices, which made her more of a switch really. She hadn’t understood that then with Glory and Buffy. Or Faith. She hadn’t understood about the No. How big that one word could be.

But she understood it now with that part of herself that was older than all of them. Older than the rocks below. And the part that was brand new with every second that passed. Lowering her hands to let the blood drip Dawn counted down with Tara, floating above the pain as she allowed herself one word.

No to the pain and the death and the distance that was growing between everyone. No to this big giant demon and his smelly minions.

She was the switch and the Key and she felt the space beneath her respond with a metallic scream. And there was no between anymore, just the subtle disappearing scar only she could feel. And a demon cross-section writhing in pain beneath her.

"Ew," her nose crinkled at the now-familiar smell of demon blood. Turpentine. It had to be. She almost felt sorry for it. Or what was left of it anyway.

At least there would be no more minions to take over for their fallen friends. If Faith could hold them off for a few minutes maybe they had a chance.

An unearthly yell split the night and Dawn’s head whipped involuntarily to the battlefield where a small figure appeared on the walk in front of her house. Anya. And she was cradling someone in her arms. Someone much larger than herself. Dark hair and… Xander.

"No," she whispered and felt the tears begin.

Oh god…maybe he’s just…

"You killed him," the vengeance demon’s voice sounded small in the huge night, but Dawn could hear the dark thing growing behind it. Like Willow. But Anya already was a demon. Had been for thousand of years. "You’re going to have to pay."

"I have no quarrel with you Anyanka," Vra’al roared and she thought she could hear a hint of fear in his voice. "And this human is inconsequential…"

Vra’al’s minions were gathering from all sides around the vengeance demon, leaving the still vague form of the Slayer alone with only a pair of hulking silhouettes.

"Wrong." Dawn blinked to clear her vision of the tears and blood and missed the moment Anya dropped Xander’s limp body onto the lawn as the demons closed in. "This human was very consequential…to me," she said calmly before lifting her arms. "Incindiere!" Several demons and at least two of the trees in the side yard spontaneously burst into flames and the yard was thrown into blinding light. "It’s about time I got my vengeance on!" she yelled and lunged at the circle of demons with Xander’s axe.

She could see the yard clearly now. Could see Faith struggling, but eventually overcoming her demons. There was no sign of the vampire anywhere and that meant Xander and Spike were dead. She felt the overwhelming and crippling grief threatening.

No. She couldn’t let herself think about that now. They had to survive. They had to give Buffy and Willow a chance. Because this was about more than just them. They were saving the world. But Faith was holding her side with her injured arm and Dawn could see the dark stain of blood on her shirt and pants. And the sword was practically dragging on the ground.

"Time for our dance Big Guy," she said with her typical bravado and somehow managed to straighten into her trademark cocky swagger.

Vra’al turned his head and stared at Dawn before returning his attention to house and the teen understood. He knew now that the portal was closed, but there was something else. Because he was staring at the house not at Faith.

The Heart opens a portal…oh my god, I can…I can open it or maybe I can talk to Buffy or Willow….

Hello! You are so very stuck up a tree!

She scanned the distance between herself and home. The demons seething around Anya and Faith and Xander’s body in the space between. But if she could just get to the house she might be able to stop it all. She swung without thinking down to the next branch and almost passed out from the pain.

Okay, so maybe not that way. If I can get Faith’s attention…

But the Slayer was stalking Vra’al, circling him with the sure confidence of a predator. She dispatched two of his minions with barely a glance and continued her dance with the giant demon who was now holding a sword of his own. A very large sword. About the size of Faith.

Anya was possessed. Definitely dark Willow material there, but her fury was focused on the minions standing between herself and Vra’al. And as Faith would say, they were definitely feeling her. She fought like a Slayer. Sort of. With lots more veins and wrinkles.

Go Anya! Kicking their smelly, ugly asses!

"Slayer this is not necessary. Give me my Heart and the Key and I will leave you and yours in peace," Vra’al’s voice rumbled over the asphalt and lawns and Dawn thought she saw Faith close her eyes for a moment.

"Yeah, and we can still be friends after we fuck, right?" Faith countered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Faith! Four hearts remember?" Anya yelled between a bone-rattling axe-blow to an unfortunate demon’s sternum and a round house kick to another. "The main one’s dead center. Kick every inch of his demon ass."

"No problem." Faith smiled and studied the giant before her. Dawn couldn’t breathe as she watched them square off against each other. The enormous demon and Faith who, as powerful as she was, barely reached his waist. Her vision blurred and shifted as she watched the terrible scene in the yard. Wiping her eyes with what she hoped was a clean piece of her shirt, she heard the loud clang of metal. The scene was fuzzy, but she could see the glint of their swords as they clashed. The sparks that flew with each meeting of metal. And in moments of clarity she could see that Faith was still guarding her left side as she circled.

It was ridiculous. This tiny girl with debilitating wounds facing off against a giant demon with four hearts. It was also classic Faith. Fearless and foolish and… as much as she believed in the Slayer, she found herself moving toward the ground one excruciating branch at a time. Moving in inches toward the battle to help. Maybe she could distract Vra’al or something.

A loud cry from Faith brought her attention back to the fight. Faith had lunged with all of her strength only to be blocked by Vra’al who swung at the Slayer’s crippled left side. There was a terrifying moment when Dawn thought that the Slayer had fallen, but she saw the brunette roll up and under to impale the demon from beneath. She could just make out the steely glint of the sword as it emerged from Vra’al’s back. A cheer rose in her throat until she heard it, the loud groan as Faith fell to her knees.

"No!" Dawn screamed and dropped to the ground. She didn’t feel the pain anymore. All she knew was that she had to get to Faith. She had to get to the house. This shouldn’t be happening. They were supposed to win. Buffy and Willow were supposed to make things right.

"Too low Slayer," Anya hissed and then fell silent. As Dawn ran toward Vra’al she saw what had silenced the vengeance demon. Faith sat back on her heels, a smaller sword embedded in her abdomen as she looked up at Vra’al with wide eyes, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.

Dawn ran toward the demons and Faith without fear.

"Dawn no!" Anya yelled and she saw the blur of the axe as it flew past her into the chest of a demon in her path. Hurdling it’s writhing form she continued toward the fallen Slayer and heard Vra’al groan in pain as he tried to remove the sword from his own abdomen. It might have missed the Heart, but it was definitely not a flesh wound. Dawn had just reached the fallen Slayer when the explosion knocked her to the ground.

Not an explosion really in the normal sense of the word. There was no fire or heat. No glass or debris. Just the warm thunder and lightning blast of…magic.

_Willow!_

"The Occum," Vra’al roared in anger and frustration before turning away from the house.

"Finally!" Anya yelled in triumph as the demons scattered around her, following their master, his enormous legs shaking the earth in long retreating strides.

"What?" Dawn screamed over the roar of it. Because this couldn’t be good. "What’s happening?" But Anya wasn’t listening to her. Too busy throwing anything she could find at the retreating demons. And chanting.

Dawn bent over Faith and smoothed the hair from her pale face. She was covered in blood and demon gore and her clothes were practically shredded from the long battle. The silver duct tape Faith had used to mend her precious leather pants after the last encounter in the cemetery were now the only thing holding them together. There were tears in Faith’s eyes and the sight of them released Dawn’s own grief in an enormous sob. All this death for nothing. But Faith was smiling. She took the Slayer’s hand in her own and felt the barriers between them disappear again in a rush of blood and energy, but it was different this time. No fear. Just calm and peace.

"S’five by five, Dawn. We won." Faith winked and looked up at the sky, her eyes growing glassy and blank, her hand falling limp in Dawn’s grasp. The impressions and images that were all she had of the Dark Slayer faded slowly replaced by a long, slow wave of numb.

_Faith is dead. Faith can’t be dead. Faith can’t be dead._

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Yes, they had all talked about the possibility before. That this was a battle that most of them might not survive, but they always talked like that. And they always won. She looked down at Faith’s pale face, covered in her own blood and Dawn’s.

And Xander lying in a crumpled heap ten feet away. Wonderful, warm always there with a joke or a hug Xander. And Spike. His absence told her enough. That he hadn’t been able to hang onto that soul for very long.

"No! You said you wouldn’t leave me alone!" she sobbed and clutched at Faith’s lifeless hand. From far away, she felt Anya’s hand rest lightly on the top of her head. "Anya," she tried again to reach the vengeance demon and was surprised at the calm sound of her own voice. "What’s happening? Is it Willow?"

"It’s the end of the world." Anya smiled and held her arms open to the silent rushing roar of it.

Dawn looked up at the house through tears and confusion to see a ring of light expand out from that room. Then the rush of color and cold and an enormous overwhelming_ yes_.


	11. Chapter 11

'If we accept multiple universes, then we no longer need worry about what "really" happened in the past, because every possible past is equally real.'

-Joseph Gerver, 1971 Physics Today.

 

'Know that the world is uncreated, as time itself is, without beginning and end.'

 - _Mahapurana_ (India, ninth century) taken from Michio Kaku’s _Hyperspace_.

 

It was the dream. That same dream that had tormented her back in the real now. And that meant she was there. It had worked. Or not worked. Because she was back in that room with the pain and grief and the dream of Tara. She could tell now that this wasn’t the dreamtime of the Nether Realms. It was the real dream of the Tara that was gone. That she could never see again. And that meant she was in that room in the Summers’ house that was once theirs. All of its smells, its peculiar acoustics and the unmistakable memory feel of it that let her know she was back there just between waking and sleep. She didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. Just a few more minutes with her love.

Because now that she had lost Tara a second time it was the terrible dream that wasn’t so terrible anymore. Her first instinct had been to wake immediately and find Buffy. Find everyone and make sure things were right. Make sure everyone was healthy and alive. But there would be all the time in the world for Buffy and Dawn and Xander later. This was still hers. She inhaled jasmine and sandalwood and felt that gilded warmth against her side and she let herself sink back a little. Back to the dreamworld where Tara was warm and alive against her. Back to the world where they were safe. Where pancakes and a morning of the gentle push and pull of comfortable chatter with Dawn and Buffy waited for them beyond the walls of this room.

Their fingers were entwined and she drew the tapering lines of slim fingers with her own careful not to wake herself. Careful to hold on to that drowsy detachment that would keep her far from the real. Willow opened up her consciousness to feel the whole of the moment. The smooth heat of a bare leg pressed to her own. The soft swell of a breast against her arm. Then it was the gentle flutter of the blonde’s breath against her ear, the sultry play of air over sensitive skin. The murmur of Tara’s lips moving in sleep. Saying her name over and over in a low sing-song and that vibrant living connection between them that was more sensual and alive than any physical act.

But she needed that myth of the physical for a few moments. With drowsy amusement and overwhelming sadness Willow remembered the relentless progression of the dream and reached out to trace the soft lines of Tara with trembling fingers. The whole of her love that she would never see again.

"Willow!"

Buffy’s panicked yell violently snapped the redhead up and out of sleep. Blinking in the faint flickering yellow light, she struggled to her feet and realized in a rush of modesty that she was standing completely naked before her best friend.

A quick look to the floor revealed a crumpled red sheet that she hastily drew around herself.

"Oh, uh…" the Slayer turned her back while the redhead struggled to cover herself and she noted absently that her friend’s clothing were unfamiliar. Dark, form-fitting pants and a tight dark shirt. Nothing she recognized and very un-Buffy in its utility. It looked like a Matrix-y version of a superhero’s wardrobe — tight, sexy and functional. Right down to the shoes. She shook off the confusing wardrobe analysis and watched the Slayer as she surveyed the damage wondering how much had changed. If anything. "Wow. Did we do this?" Buffy reached out to the black scoring on the walls that Willow knew instantly were evidence of a terrible struggle and magic. Big bad magic. Definitely.

"Probably when I went all with the dark magic to stop the spell," Willow shrugged and wondered with her still sleep-fuzzy brain where exactly they were. Because they were definitely back in the future, in the Summers’ house, but what did that mean? Were they back where they had left off? She and Buffy?

And what’s up with Trinity the Vampire Slayer?

But she had more important things to worry about because there was so much now between them. The memory of the angry exchange in Tara’s room made her wince with an almost visceral pain. She had been so determined not to return to this room. To abandon her friends and die with Tara in that other past. And that was kind of unforgivable wasn’t it?

That brought her to another enormous question mark — the spell’s completion. If it changed the past, she should remember only the new version and that stolen time should have disappeared. But she remembered everything. Everything about those precious moments with Tara. The shy young woman with the surprising strength and confidence. Another new first kiss that probably wasn’t anymore. Everything. But those memories created a path for the grief and pain to find her. She could feel the them pulling at her with desperate insistence and inhaled sharply to focus herself. This was not the time for grief. This was the time for Scooby action. Tears could come later when she was alone.

To take her mind off the awkward possibilities Willow studied the room with the clinical detachment of a Scooby looking for clues. The walls were black in large sections on the south wall and broken pieces of furniture and torn clothing lay strewn around the room. But something was wrong. The bedframe and mattress propped against the wall weren’t the catalog pieces she had returned to from London. And the clothes were a strange mix of familiar and completely foreign pieces. Torn black t-shirts and tanks.

Following the circular path of debris, Willow’s eyes drifted to her feet where a careful line of powder was drawn on the carpet. The beginnings of a circle that stretched away from her, lit by candles. Around her. Someone had cast a spell here. She could still feel the residual magic from the Heart and something else. Something familiar.

They tried to help us. Dawn and Faith must have cast a spell. Or maybe Anya?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Buffy turned to her, her face a mix of confusion and something like defeat. The Slayer’s strong hands worked against each other as she stared down at the floor and then up to meet her best friend’s eyes.

"Wil, I’m so sorry I couldn't --" she began, but her voice died and her head tilted to the left slightly as her forehead scrunched in the Slayer’s trademark expression of shock and confusion.

"What?"

Oh god, we changed things and I’m, like, two-headed monster girl now or something…or maybe I’m all permanently veiny and with the black hair and…

Willow searched the walls for a mirror, but found only scorched plaster, nails and yellowing tape. She reached tentatively to her face to make sure, but felt only her regular features.

But I could have forgotten. I could just think that my face feels normal and really…okay stop with the head-trippiness.

Hello, you remember. You remember everything…which is totally bizarre in itself.

But what does Buffy remember?

She searched her best friend’s face, but found only confusion.

"Buffy what is it?"

The Slayer’s mouth opened once as if she would speak and then closed abruptly as she studied Willow carefully. Her eyes travelling over the redhead’s features and then beyond as if she were deciding something.

"Um, Wil…" she began and then closed her eyes. She felt two strong hands on her bare shoulders as her best friend turned her gently away.

"Buffy…" she began, but trailed off as she found herself facing the windows, the Slayer’s hands still resting on her shoulders. Tara’s armoire rested in pieces on its side under the window and her destroyed laptop had been placed carefully on top of it. "You know you could have just told me, really. I’m not like that anymore. I know that it’s just a comput--"

Her body understood before the visual information made its relentless progress through her sluggish brain. There was someone else here in the room with them. Someone blonde and naked in the circle with her and every muscle in her body locked in rigid tension with the knowledge. She closed her eyes and fell back slightly, the Slayer’s strong arms holding her upright.

No. It’s not her. Don’t even think that. It can’t be her. She’s gone. You left her there… Don’t delude yourself Rosenburg. It’s probably Anya skyclad for the spell or…

"Wil?" Buffy whispered gently behind her and Willow felt hands those supporting hands squeeze her shoulders gently. "It’s okay. I’m right here."

Movement at her feet brought her other senses into play. Whoever it was they were stirring, bare skin brushing against her legs. And the soft sounds of someone rousing from sleep. A breathy sigh and the impossible smell of jasmine. It was the dream. She was still dreaming. Had to be.

But the Slayer’s hands were firm and real on her shoulders.

"Buffy?" she choked on the word and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that were already rolling down her face. It wasn’t Tara. It couldn’t be. "It’s not…it’s not her Buffy…"

"Wil, open your eyes." The Slayer’s voice held a note of tenderness that she hadn’t heard in years. The sound of her best friend, the girl she had trusted once with everything.

Through a blurry haze of tears, the room began to materialize around Willow. The broken lines of the magic’s ruinous path and something soft and glowing below. Swallowing hard against the desperate fear and grief, Willow leaned back into her best friend’s grip to take in the sight of Tara lying on her side, naked at her feet. The candlelight softened the familiar curves, but it was unmistakably Tara.

"She’s dead isn’t she? Or in a coma? Or a ghost? That’s it, she’s some kind of ghost haunting…" Willow’s eyes closed involuntarily as her mind raced through the nightmare of possibilities. She felt Buffy squeeze her shoulders again.

"Not a ghost…and so not dead."

"How could you know that…I mean, you haven’t even…" she sobbed.

"Slayer hearing …her heartbeat, breathing…she’s just asleep." Another squeeze. "Trust me Wil. It’s Tara."

"Willow?" There was no mistaking that voice. Low and musical and still husky with sleep as it rolled over her in a breaking wave. Her eyes were open in a moment to find Tara blinking up at her.

"Baby?" she fell into those arms and kept falling as the warmth encircled her in a world of Tara. Real and solid and there in the room where it had all gone so horribly wrong. They were crying against each other, hands tracing the lines of each other’s faces.

"I thought I lost you," Tara said inside a kiss and Willow found herself blinking in astonished confusion.

"But…I did…lose you," she began and trailed off. Because this was impossible. She had let go of this girl. The connection had been broken. "How…?" she tore her eyes from deep blue, and searched up the black clad figure behind her. The Slayer stood above them, her eyes full of tears as she studied them with a beaming smile. "Buffy?"

"I couldn’t," she began, but her voice broke. "I just…you know…couldn’t lose you both again."

Willow’s mind seemed to be circling the Slayer’s last statement. Racing through the events of the past days and hours. Occum’s Heart and her own dark magic.

"Second chance…" Willow turned incredulous to Tara’s lop-sided smile to make sure it was still real, tracing the familiar jawline gently with her fingers. "This was your…?" she couldn’t even finish the sentence as she returned her gaze to Buffy.

The Slayer nodded through her own tears and Willow rose to her feet in a moment, her arms encircling her best friend, her hero for so many years. They were both crying now and laughing as they held each other. "I love you Buff!" she somehow managed through the tears and the Slayer’s bone-crushing embrace.

"I love you too Wil and I’m so sorry…" they rocked against each other trading insistent apologies as the awkward tension of the past years melted away. And something else, a new set of memories that seemed to be forming as they held each other. Like long-forgotten moments that had been there all along waiting to emerge.

"Buffy?" She pulled back to see the Slayer’s forehead lined in confusion. Both of them struggling with the overlapping memories. Conflicting pasts nudging them. "Are you…?"

The Slayer just nodded.

"Um, should I b-be jealous here or…" Tara had managed to pull on a robe and stood behind them with a soft smirk. Willow found that she could barely look at the blonde. Worried that too much scrutiny would make Tara disappear.

"Tara," the Slayer sniffed and pulled away from Willow to embrace the surprised blonde. "I missed you so much."

Quickly recovering from the initial shock of finding herself in Buffy’s arms, Tara enclosed the Slayer in a gentle embrace. She was clearly confused, but touched by the impromptu show of affection. "I missed you too Buffy." Blues eyes met green over a dark shoulder and Willow felt her knees grow weak.

"Oh my god it worked! You’re back!" Dawn’s voice filled the room and the redhead barely had time to turn around before she was practically knocked to the ground by the teen’s exuberant hug. Images cascaded through her mind: helping Dawn get ready for a date; watching Tara teach Dawn a simple spell. But these were new memories. The Dawn she had left here wouldn’t even look at her. Before she had time to recover the teen had suddenly pulled away. "Tara?"

Dawn was gone and Willow heard a soft whoosh and turned to find that the teen had replaced the Slayer in the blonde’s arms. Tara again seemed pleasantly surprised if not more than a little confused as she gently stroked the dark hair. "Dawnie, it’s good to see you too sweetie," she pulled back slowly and gently wiped tears from the teens face. "But I just saw you a few hours ago."

The teen’s head tilted slightly in a gesture that reminded Willow immediately of Buffy. Dawn looked around the room obviously confused, until something seemed to settle. Or click. Willow felt it too. More memories sliding into place. The spell’s magic working to anchor this new future to the past.

"Oh yeah," Dawn shook her head with a smile and rolled her eyes as if she had decided her confusion had been just a momentary slip.

"Hello! Sister back from another dimension and I don’t even rate a hug?" Buffy stood hands on hips and Dawn rolled her eyes again in righteous teenage indignation before leaping into her sister’s arms with a squeal and a wide smile.

Willow’s eyes met Tara’s again and she was shocked to feel heat in her cheeks. She looked away shyly and wondered at her own actions. But the memories were a jumbled mess in her mind, new ones arriving with every moment that passed. And she wasn’t sure which Tara was in the room with her now. Was it the woman she had betrayed, whose mind she had violated or was it a completely new person? Were they even together in this universe? Another stolen glance confirmed that Tara was still studying her with tenderness and concern.

So, okay…probably a couple here. Or were a couple at some point, which is all of the good, but…

"So were you two in, like, a hell dimension or something?" Dawn’s excited voice brought her attention back to the room and she noticed for the first time that the teen was dressed like her big sister in black fighting gear. "Anya said you were an idiot for setting it off by accident and that you were probably going to pull a Glory and end the world…only, you know, by mistake." Another roll of the eyes. "Where’s the thingie?" she continued without waiting for a response. "The Heart or whatever?"

"It should be gone. It kind of erases itself…" Willow began, but stopped as Buffy extended a silver object in the palm of her hand. "Oh."

"Can I see it?" the teen asked and reached for the silver object only to have the Slayer pull it away abruptly.

"No way."

"Well, how did you set it off?"

"Like, I’m gonna tell you that," Buffy began then grew pensive as she studied its surface. "Anyway, I think we broke it." Then extended the Heart to the redhead. "Actually, I think you broke it, Wil."

Willow carefully accepted the object from the Slayer’s hand. It seemed lighter than she remembered. Still warm from the Slayer’s pocket, the redhead still couldn’t shake the feeling that the metal was alive, but there was definitely something different about it. The residual effects of the spell seemed disconnected from the object in her hand.

"What was it like here?" she questioned as she studied the now-familiar star pattern on the Heart’s surface. "Did we disappear or…"

"Suspended animation," Dawn interjected in a matter-of-fact tone. "You know…like Sleeping Beauty."

"Exactly like Sleeping Beauty," Tara offered with a flirtatious smile. Willow felt her face heat up again and with a deep inhale returned her attention to the less-confusing demon object.

"So what were you doing?" Dawn resumed her interrogation. "Did you do something over? Anya said that it’s some kind of do-over demon machine."

Looking up from the Heart, Willow’s eyes met Buffy’s and the Slayer seemed to be searching for answers in the redhead’s face. Her forehead lined in concentration as she grappled with the spell’s magic and her own fading memories.

"I don’t know, it’s all kind of…fuzzy," the Slayer shook her head as if to clear it and then scanned the room quickly. "Wait, is Mom…I mean, is she…?"

Dawn looked almost angry for a moment before her eyes fell to the floor. "She’s um…" she began and trailed off.

"We took flowers to her grave yesterday," Tara moved forward to take the teenager’s hand in her own. "Roses from the garden." The blonde witch said gently and studied the Slayer’s face intently. Willow wanted to run to her, but she couldn’t seem to move. This was her Tara. Calm and beautiful and offering comfort to everyone. But was she this Tara’s?

"Oh." Buffy’s eyes were full of tears, but she nodded her acceptance. "I knew that," the lines between her eyebrows deepened as her eyes fell to the floor. "I just thought…I mean…I don’t know what I thought." Tara reached out to her and Buffy took the hand offered with a painful smile.

In that moment Willow understood what the Slayer had lost. What she had given up for Tara. And Willow. Joyce was her sacrifice.

She could have used her second chance to….

To what? She argued with herself. To go back in time and make her mother go to the doctor sooner and hope that made a difference somehow? To be there to watch her mother die from an aneurysm?

"Buffy I’m sorry…"

"It’s okay, Wil" her best friend interrupted her with a sad smile as she looked at the redhead. "I got to say good-bye…I think." The pain of it was overwhelming. Buffy once again sacrificing so much for all of them. She felt the tears roll down her face and suddenly realized how tired she was. And how scared. Buffy had given up so much for her to have a second chance, but would she live up to it? Willow felt Tara’s hand slip into her own and a wave of calm washed through her, the connection to her love stronger than she remembered.

"Got to say good-bye to who?" Dawn demanded. "Who?"

Before the Slayer could respond a loud voice boomed through the upstairs.

"Dawn! We’re not supposed to be up here ‘til the Lilith Fair is ov-…" She felt the door to the room slam open and a sharp intake of breath behind her. Then a soft, almost inaudible "B?" Before she could turn to see the source of the intrusion, a blur of dark rushed through her peripheral vision and tackled Buffy. Willow stepped immediately between this new unidentified danger and Tara, preparing herself for defense. But…B?

That’s when Willow noticed that Buffy wasn’t being so much attacked as…well…kissed. But the Slayer reacted violently, pushing her attacker to the ground with surprising force. It was only when the dark figure was on the floor that Willow’s mind processed the impossible events. Faith. Faith was now on her knees, her hair pulled back and no makeup in an outfit that was a perfect complement to Buffy and Dawn’s. Dark and stylish and very much twenty-first century superhero wear. It looked like some kind of kevlar weave or reinforced nylon. Something tough and protective unlike Buffy’s usual high fashion-victim Slaywear. After years of Willow’s ceaseless prodding on the subject, someone had finally talked some sense into her best friend.

"Oh, uh…sorry," Faith sat on her knees blinking up at the Slayer, her eyes full of hurt and confusion. She glanced quickly at the three other occupants of the room and back to Buffy. "I forgot you didn’t want anyone to know…" the dark Slayer trailed off and looked at her hands. "About…you know…us."

"Yeah, like there’s anyone on earth who doesn’t know," the teenager muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Except, you know, Giles. But that’s just because he’s clueless… and English."

She heard Tara whisper a gentle, "Dawn," and the teen fell silent. The Slayers, however, seemed oblivious to the intrusion, completely focused on each other as always.

"I mean…damn B, you didn’t have to get all ghetto on me," she let out an exasperated sigh, but when she spoke again her voice was small and gentle. "Didn’t you get my note?"

"What are you talking about? What note? I didn’t know you could write." Buffy fired back angrily and Willow could see the dangerous mix of emotions playing on her best friend’s face. "And…there is no us! Ever." Anger and hurt and confusion. She knew its source because something was shifting within her own mind. Alongside her longstanding feelings of jealousy and anger for the dark Slayer there was something new emerging. A kind of grudging respect for Faith that had somehow grown into trust and friendship. There were vague hints of a still-stormy relationship between the two Slayers. She thought she could feel Tara mixed in there as well and several conversations with the blonde flashed through her mind. The low soothing tones of her voice and the words ‘just give her a chance’ echoing in a thousand permutations.

"Fine. Whatever. There’s no us…." The dark Slayer shook her head obviously hurt by Buffy’s remarks. "It’s in your pocket," Faith pointed still kneeling in front of the blonde. "I mean, it’s not really a note, cause you know, you’re right…not exactly that hot with the whole writing thing…and I would’ve put it in your hand, but kinda…stiff as a board so…." The dark Slayer rambled nervously as Buffy dug in her pocket finally extracting something she held tightly in her left fist, her eyes closing slowly. Willow felt a slow swell of more memories as her feelings for Faith evolved again into a kind of sisterly affection side by side with the other memories of the violent psychopath who had held her at knife point. Faith, she noticed had risen slowly to her feet, careful to keep her distance from the blonde whose eyes were slowly opening to study the object in her hand. A black tube of something. Mascara? Lip gloss? "In case you woke up when I wasn’t here," she finished, her voice painfully soft.

Buffy’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open as she looked from the tube to Faith and finally to Willow. She didn’t know the significance of the object in the Slayer’s hand, but knew what her best friend was going through. The confusion. The visceral tug-of-war between the dark concrete of the past they knew and the flexible shining thing being built with each second that passed.

"Wil?" Buffy’s eyes searched hers, begging for an answer, an explanation or more likely a denial. She could feel the fragility of the situation, the spell building the past from these moments and the broken memories they all shared. But more terrifying was the power they all had to change everything. Right now. That any action or inaction could affect everything. Could take Tara from her again.

But isn’t that kinda…you know…life?

She could see the desperate pleading in Faith’s face. And something else she had never seen there. Hope.

Second chance. Maybe there was enough to go around. Enough for all of them. And as crazy as it seemed to most of her, as much as it hurt that younger Willow who idolized her best friend and resented the exclusive connection the Slayers shared, the idea of Buffy and Faith together was right in that deep down place she was learning to trust. Her heart.

But how to say it without disrupting things? Without influencing events with her own prejudices and past. Something filtered up through her psyche. Something her best friend had said in that room before the Heart’s spell was cast.

"There’s always a catch?" Willow offered with a shrug and a smile. Buffy struggled visibly with the changing landscape of their past, her face twisted in confusion as the words settled between them.

"Oh, my god, this is hell," she heard her best friend mutter. "I try to do the right thing and I end up in some hell place where Faith and I..." But with a quick glance to her fellow Slayer, a kind of astonished recognition and acceptance became evident in a tiny, terrified smile. Buffy nodded almost imperceptibly as she stared at the tube of lip gloss and it happened. Reality stretched and snapped as the spell lined up the future and the past with a thunderclap of certainty that almost knocked the redhead to her knees. "Faith and I," the Slayer mumbled again.

Buffy cleared the space between herself and Faith in a moment, the two of them locked in a kiss that would have killed another human and Willow felt a ripple in the fabric of everything emanating out from the entwined pair of Slayers in an electric rush.

Without thinking she glanced at Tara becoming very aware suddenly the blonde witch was wearing only a bathrobe over total nakedness and she was wrapped in a sheet. Their reunion had been positively chaste in comparison. Maybe they weren’t a couple? Or had been once and she’d done something to break them up? Her eyes she realized with a start had involuntarily descended to the exposed skin of the blonde’s chest. With a start, she brought her eyes up to Tara’s and was shocked to see her studying her carefully as her thumb circled over the back of the redhead’s hand. Swallowing hard, Willow fought the urge to look away as Tara’s lips curved into a lop-sided smile. Why did she feel so awkward? Like she had a high school crush?

"Okay, sister smooching is just...yuck. I’m going to Rain’s!" the teen announced with disgust and quickly moved toward the door.

"Not in my gear!" Buffy yelled breathless between kisses and Willow laughed at the beautiful everyday insanity of it all. Amazed that the sight of her best friend kissing her former arch-nemesis seemed completely normal.

Not to mention a girl. Miss Straight Girl America is all over a girl.

When did that happen?

Pieces of an awkward conversation in the coffeehouse flickered through her mind. Buffy, red-faced and mortified asking her best friend for advice without actually asking.

‘Buffy, why are we playing ‘hide the gender pronoun?’’

Her face reddened at the memory and the terrifying attempts at conversation and explanation that followed.

‘Really, I’m so not, like, the lesbo guru or whatever.’

"Fine! Jeez! Get a room already!" Dawn yelled from the hall.

"This is my room…or was until Red went all…" Faith growled, only to be silenced by another deadly round of kisses from the blonde. Well, that explained all the dark clothing and the leather strewn around the room. But wasn’t this their room? Hers and Tara’s?

"Ready to go home?" Tara asked gently and squeezed Willow’s hand.

"I, um… home? You mean we’re not home now?"

Blue eyes studied her carefully as the blonde’s head tipped slightly to the left. Tara was reading her. The familiar feel of the blonde’s energy running gently through her and over her. She couldn’t help wondering what she saw there. Was her energy still dark? Did the traces of dark magic follow her? "W-we can stay here tonight if you want."

An image of the two of them making love on the bare wood floors of an apartment coursed through her mind. A fantasy or maybe a new memory. Willow didn’t know but she blushed at the potential and looked to the floor again. "Um, no, I…" she paused for a moment to gather her strength to ask for the only thing she had ever really wanted. "I want to go home Tara."

****

Somehow they got dressed and made their way to the car. No goodbyes with the Slayers who had fallen into a world of only each other. Just the three of them driving through Sunnydale in the middle of the night to a home she didn’t know. There was a conversation with Dawn about Xander and Anya. Xander was still in physical therapy. Wounded in the confrontation in the back yard. Buffy had been shot as well, but she had recovered quickly. An image of a scar on the Slayer’s left side, a mirror image of Faith’s flashed in her mind. She didn’t ask about Warren.

Throughout the drive Tara was silent, focusing on the road ahead with occasional glances to Willow. After several riveting tales of the younger Summer’s slaying exploits with Faith since the spell was cast, Dawn was safely in Rain’s house and they were alone in the car.

‘Rain. As in forty-percent chance of?’ Did that happen in this time or that other past? Or both?

A cool hand covered hers, slim fingers gently entwined with her own. They were still sitting in Rain’s driveway a comfortable silence warming the space between them.

"Willow, something’s different isn’t it? I mean, you and Buffy, you changed something with your Second Chance?" Tara knew. Of course Tara knew. She had always understood the important things. Willow just nodded and looked down at their hands. She could feel the metallic warmth of the Heart in the pocket of her jeans. A reminder of everything that had changed. "Because it all kind of feels brand new." The blonde’s forehead scrunched into deep lines as she contemplated her next statement. "But at the same time, I have the feeling that it always did."

"Always did what?"

"Always felt brand new…with you I mean," the blonde finished shyly and then looked out the windshield at the dark night sky. Willow followed her line of sight and sank into the creaky vinyl seat. The stars were the same at least. Familiar constellations framed by the car’s white and beige interior. An old boxy Volvo wagon that Willow couldn’t seem to remember, but that felt right somehow. Safety statistics and charts flashed through her mind letting her know that she had researched this purchase carefully, hoping to keep Tara safe. This moment, she knew, was about safety too. The two of them, sitting side by side in the security of the steel cage as they shared secrets. A neutral space between the Scooby world and the untouched safety of that other place she hadn’t been yet. Home.

"Yeah. It did…" she smiled a small smile. "Always. With the feeling brand new."

Another long silence. "How d-different is it? This world…I mean, from the one you left?"

"Very…I think," she began then trailed off. The truth was she wasn’t sure how different it was. Or similar. "But I’m kinda unclear on the details right now." She twirled her fingers in a circle near her temple and rolled her eyes. "Kind of messy up there right now."

"Messy?" the blonde prodded gently.

"Well, I have all these memories from the other time, but instead of disappearing like they’re supposed to…they’re all kind of moving in." She searched for the right analogy to explain her current state of psychological pandemonium. "Like I’m at the movies, but there are three movies playing instead of one and I have to pay special attention because something could be happening in one that I need to know and …" she turned to face Tara abruptly, clutching her hand tightly. "And…are we together in this world? I mean, you know, when we got to the movies…you and me… is it a friendly type thing or a, um, a smoochie type thing?"

Tara bit her lip to suppress a smile. "A smoochie type thing. Definitely."

"So we’re not just roommates?"

"Mmmm, more like roommates with benefits," the blonde said with a flirtatious smile then looked became serious. "Weren’t we together in your other world?"

She felt the frown forming automatically. "Yes…and no."

Tara nodded, still staring at the night sky, "Because I was gone."

"Well, it was…complicated, but…yeah. How do you…"

A wry smile graced perfect ruby lips. "Buffy’s never told me she missed me before, Wil. Ever. If you two hadn’t just returned from another dimension I’d have her checked for signs of demonic possession," she joked carefully. "And you said you had lost me, so…"

She nodded through the tears starting at the thought of those other Tara’s that were lost and the mounting panic that her overlapping memories pointed toward some sort of instability in the fabric of this reality. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t remember anything from that other past. Buffy didn’t. Obviously, or the Faith encounter would have become a violent brawl, not the disturbing version of Slayer foreplay she had just witnessed.

"Tara I shouldn’t remember all of the…everything."

"Are you sure?" the blonde turned in her seat to face the redhead. "I mean, if anyone could remember multiple realities, it’s you sweetie."

"But what if something’s wrong? What if this is just a dream and I…" Willow turned to Tara in a panic, grasping her hands in desperation. "Tara, I’m not going back there, I can’t!" The feel of a cool hand stroking her cheek silenced her.

"Sweetie, you’re not going anywhere," the cool fell away and Willow felt the car shift into Drive. "Except home. With me."

****

They drove the rest of the way in silence as they held hands over the emergency brake. Willow stared out the window and tried to will her warring memories into some kind of order. This was basic psychology. She knew how memory worked, what triggered it. Sights and smells that brought the past into the present. But now each sensation brought a double or triple set of conflicting memories. The familiar landmarks on the side of the road evoked a long, tired ride home from the beach, dosing off in Tara’s arms in the backseat of Xander’s car. But it also triggered other vague memories of this same drive home wounded and tired from battles she didn’t remember yet. And a number that was driving her crazy: 317.

They pulled into the driveway of a brightly painted Victorian clapboard house and Willow checked the address. 1267. So it wasn’t their address. That haunting number. Maybe it was the combination to something. Or a date. Something significant had happened on March 17. An anniversary? Or maybe it had some significance to the spell. A countdown to something. Or it could be the amount of time I have left in this world. But is it three days and seventeen hours or three years, seventeen days or…With mounting trepidation she followed Tara to a sturdy wooden stairway on the side of the house and the two began to climb. Flowering vines were entwined in the railings of the staircase and she thought she smelled jasmine.

Tara stopped at a bright purple door to remove a set of keys and Willow watched fascinated as the blonde began to unlock the door to a place she had never been…home.

"Tara…does the number 317 mean anything to you?" She finally blurted out. The blonde turned to her, a quizzical expression on her face as she opened the door, but didn’t enter. "It just keeps…I don’t know. I keep seeing it…or thinking it…it’s a very popular number in my head at the moment."

"How popular?"

"Britney, pre-movie career."

The blonde looked thoughtful for a moment before a playful smile crept across her features. "Um, actually it’s three minutes, seventeen seconds." Willow was still confused. "Well, that would be the average time it takes to get to Buffy’s in an emergency." Tara smiled as she glanced briefly into the still-dark interior. "You timed it…repeatedly. Under different conditions."

"Oh." Well, that was a relief. And more than a little disappointing. "So…I’m still quite large with the dork in this reality."

"Yeah, if dork is spelled s-e-x-y," Tara squeezed her hand and pulled her gently inside and Willow felt the same disturbing mix of arousal and profound shyness that seemed to be the trademark of their relationship in this dimension.

She was about to ask the blonde about it when the lights suddenly came on revealing a comfortable living room. There was evidence of both she and Tara in the room’s contents. Built-in shelves overflowing with books magical and non-magical in nature. A green velvet retro couch flanked by two stylish, but well-worn chairs shared the space with a state-of-the-art multimedia suite. A nest of cables and connectors was barely hidden behind the dark stylish lines of a low table attesting to a network of surveillance and computer equipment throughout the apartment and probably beyond. Candles and crystals were littered over almost every available surface. She winced at the thought of that other past where these objects had caused them both so much pain.

The room brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t cry. It was so familiar, this place, but the details of it remained just out of reach. She remembered small things about it. Waking up in Tara’s lap on a Scooby movie night, reading a passage in some book over the blonde’s shoulder. Bickering gently over the placement of a particular drawing. And strange disconnected memories like the fact that she didn’t remember buying the TV, but she knew exactly how it was connected to the network. And the hub was somewhere behind…

She felt a gentle tug on her hand and looked up into that crooked smile that made her throat ache.

"Come on. I want to show you around."

Willow swallowed and followed the blonde down a hallway lined with photographs of the two of them and their ‘family.’ She slowed to study their strange contents and felt Tara’s hand squeeze hers gently. The first photo she noticed was one of Tara with Dawn and Faith. Tara and Dawn hung from the dark Slayer’s back in what was obviously a vain attempt to tackle her, but Faith stood grinning apparently unfazed by the two women trying to drag her to the ground. It was such a strange scene. She hadn’t really thought about what it would mean to have Faith in their lives. That Tara and the dark Slayer might actually be friends in this world. She remembered a few snips of conversation and a wealth of conflicting emotions on this subject. Jealousy and frustration and even, impossibly, affection.

‘Sweetie, what part of ‘yours’ and ‘you’re the hottiest hottie on the planet’ did you not understand?’

So yeah, add embarrassment to that column of crazy emotions. Tara must have read her confusion because she moved closer suddenly, their arms touching slightly as they studied the photo.

"You took that one," she offered gently and Willow noticed for the first time the mischievous glint in Tara’s eyes as she stared out of the photo. Clearing her throat nervously she looked up at a photo just above it. An impromptu group shot of the entire Scooby gang with Giles and Joyce. They were all in the Summers living room, draped haphazardly over the sofa arms and onto the floor. All of them. Xander’s wide grin as he hugged a grudging smile out of Anya. Buffy and Dawn smiling their movie star smiles as they flanked their mother protectively. Joyce sitting center stage looking weak, but happy. Giles standing with perfect posture to one side, his smile belying his unending affection for the crew. And Faith looking very uncomfortable, arms crossed as Dawn apparently held her in frame with one hand. Clearly, the dark Slayer hadn’t been a willing participant in this group photo. Willow noticed with a smile that she was sitting on Tara’s knee, their hands clasped as they stared at each other and not at the camera. She squeezed Tara’s hand unconsciously, her eyes drifting back to Joyce.

"Was she gone in your world too?" Tara asked gently and Willow nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"Yeah. It nearly killed Buffy…and all of us really," she finished weakly.

"I was so proud of you for patrolling with Faith so Buffy could be with her Mom." Tara offered gently and Willow wondered suddenly about Tara’s mother. Her past. Were they the same here? They should be.

But this was all too confusing. She and Faith working together? And Joyce’s death. Was it the same in this reality? Was it complications or something worse? She moved to another photo to stop the grief and confusion from overtaking her again. This one was of she and Tara. They had obviously been caught in an intimate moment, completely focused on each other and obviously mid-smooching by the looks of their swollen lips and dilated eyes.

Tara chuckled beside her. "Faith using her powers for no-good as usual." She could hear the smile in the blonde’s voice, but turned to make sure Faith hadn’t gone evil on them again. "No. Nothing like that," she soothed Willow carefully. "She just…well, we sneaked away for some private time and she tracked us and… took this." Tara turned her attention back to the photo with a wistful smile. "I’m kinda glad actually. It’s one of my favorites."

"When was it taken?" she asked as she reached out automatically to touch the glass. Its surface was cool and hard under her fingertips. Real.

"Um, last summer sometime. Maybe August? Or July?" Another light musical laugh. "In a few hours I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me the exact date and time."

Willow smiled weakly, but she was still stuck on the timeline. July or August. And that placed the photo during their breakup. In the months of her worst magic abuse when Tara wouldn’t even look at her or take her phone calls. But here was evidence to the contrary. They were together and happy then. No magic in sight. Just the two of them in love.

It was too much for the redhead and she stumbled backward, Tara’s arm holding her firmly around the waist. "Sweetie, maybe you should sit down" The world spun around her as the blonde led her gently toward the white tile of the kitchen. They passed another room, a twin bed and computer desk crammed with programming reference books barely visible in the dim light. Was that her room? But they were together weren’t they? Unless this reality was still shifting somehow. If it was unstable, she could keep drifting between realities indefinitely never knowing what was real and what was the dream.

She found herself seated in a kitchen that smelled like herbs and clean. Tara whispering about tea as she moved gracefully around the room. Plants hung from hooks, drying in fragrant green clumps. Sage, mint and comfrey and other unidentified smells. Strange twisted roots in multi-colored glass jars. A new memory of Tara working in an herb garden. Their herb garden at the Summers’ house and one behind this house they shared with an older couple who lived downstairs. Her lover planting and growing things wherever she could.

But that twin bed….. The queasiness was growing more pronounced as she tried to focus on the kitchen and its contents looking for clues. On the refrigerator were a series of what looked like trading cards, but on closer inspection Willow found that they were actually the Scoobies or "Cool Monster Fighters". Scraping her chair over to clean white plastic linoleum she discovered that everyone had their own card and although they shared an overall design scheme (all of them in the same black uniform), they each had their own icon and superhero-worthy name. Xander or ‘X Man’ had an enormous X on his chest that looked suspiciously like Superman’s design. She thought she remembered Faith calling Xander an ‘ex-man’ at some point and knew suddenly that this entire project had grown out of their mutual love of comic books and the mounting terror of Joyce’s illness and Glory. Her multimedia expertise hadn’t been so much volunteered as drafted into service. She smiled softly at the new memory and returned her gaze to the cards. Dawn was "The Switch", her symbol a shining green star and Willow smiled at the teen’s action-hero pose as she kicked at the camera. Buffy and Faith or Slayer Lite and Darth Slayer had chosen contrasting fists as their symbols. One white. One black. And they looked very superhero-y as they snarled, stakes in hand, at the photographer. Willow laughed out loud at the next card. Anya’s symbol was a giant dollar sign. Unlike the others, the ex-vengeance demon was not punching or kicking, but was instead wagging her finger at the camera in her trademark gesture of harsh admonishment. The next card was Giles dressed in tweed, wielding an axe with the name Ripper surrounded by a comic-book starburst. Then it was Tara and Willow or ‘Blondie’ and ‘Red.’ There were no symbols, but the two of them were dressed in the same black. She thought she looked typically ridiculous as she kicked at the camera, but Tara….she nearly fell out of her chair at the sight of the blonde in tight black fighting gear, a look of pure animal intensity on her face as she struck at the camera.

"You like?" Tara asked a smile evident in her voice as she handed the redhead a steaming cup of tea. She thought she smelled mint and ginger as she continued to stare at the blonde’s card.

"Uh-huh," she managed between scalding sips. "You look…um…wow!"

A soft chuckling near her ear made her tear her eyes from the refrigerator to find the blonde blushing next to her. "Yeah, um, that’s kind of your screen saver…and wallpaper and your home page," another lop-sided smile. "And I still find trading cards tucked into your books."

She turned back to the card and blushed. A memory was working its way up through layers of sensation and she felt the queasiness grow in intensity. The symbols. She and Tara had had their own once, but they were a problem somehow.

"But there was a thing with the symbols right?" she took another sip of the tea to calm her stomach. "Our symbols.’

The blonde smiled and nodded, obviously pleased that the redhead was remembering this world. This past. "They interfered with some of the spells." She couldn’t seem to remember her own symbol, but she saw the blonde’s with sudden clarity. The sun. A deep red center surrounded by the golden fiery corona. On Tara’s chest. In her memory it looked strikingly similar to the bloody fingerprint of the gunshot wound and Willow felt the world shift violently.

"Willow" she woke to the sound of the sound of Tara’s worried voice and opened her eyes to find the blonde hovering over her looking absolutely panicked. Her upper body was covered in a warm, wet liquid. Blood?

_No. It’s tea. I’m on the floor in their kitchen. Our kitchen. And we’re safe._

"Tara? What happened?" she asked groggily.

"You fell sweetie. Are you okay?" Tara embraced her, holding her tightly against her and Willow almost passed out again at the overwhelming relief of it. The incredible rightness of being in those arms again. She wanted to hold on, but she was so weak. "I think we should get you to bed."

With a bit of struggle, they managed to reach their feet and stumble down the hall. Willow hesitated in front of the room with the twin bed and computer desk and Tara stiffened slightly beside her. "Oh. Would you rather sleep in Dawn’s room tonight?" The blonde asked gently. "I understand if that’s…"

"Dawn’s room?"

"Well, technically, it’s your study/Dawn’s room, but…lately it’s leaning more toward the Dawn’s room side." Willow noticed a giant poster of J-Lo over the bed surrounded by smaller photos and magazine cutouts of various pop artists. "She usually spends the night a couple of times a week now."

With a weary and relieved smile she turned to Tara, "No, I want our room…if that’s okay?" And averted her eyes immediately because she couldn’t look really. She couldn’t risk making this world disappear under the weight of her gaze. Like particles. You couldn’t scrutinize them too closely without losing something.

The blonde sighed and closed her eyes briefly, a bright smile forming on her lips. "Oh yes. Definitely." And gently helped the redhead down the hall toward the other end of the apartment. Willow felt like she was floating through an Escher drawing of the hallway. Her vertigo was so acute that the normal directions of up and down, right and left were proving useless.

"For a straight girl, Dawnie sure has lots of girls on her wall," she murmured groggily into Tara’s shoulder and felt a rumble of laughter as a reward.

"Yeah, that’s what Faith says too." She could feel Tara smiling next to her. "And I found a Darth Slayer trading card in her backpack a couple of weeks ago," she said with evident amusement, then grew serious. "But we’ve been trying to get everyone to lay off the teasing. Dawn’s pretty freaked and the fact that her big crush is in love with her sister has hit her kinda hard. I don’t even think she knows why she’s so angry," the blonde finished, concern for the teenager obvious in her voice.

Willow just nodded as she was led into a familiar-smelling room and seated on a comfortable bed. The conversation about Dawn was so familiar. Their worry and concern for the troubled teenager echoing through all of her pasts as she ran her fingers over the bumpy blanket that read like a topological map of love and sorrow. But it couldn’t give her the answers she needed. She wasn’t even sure what the questions were anymore.

The soft glow of candles filled the room and she let herself fall back onto the bed, which was much softer than she remembered. And moving. And kicking. Yes, definitely something small and writhing under her back. With a yelp she jumped away from the intruder ready for some kind of miniature demon attack, but found only a white and black cat. It took a moment for her mind to connect this rather large cat with the sneaky kitten that lived in Tara’s dorm room.

"Miss Kitty?" and suddenly she was choking on sobs as she clutched the purring cat to her chest, tears pouring down her face. As if this living memory had pulled all of that bottled up grief out of her. "Oh my god, you’re like…here and…huge." Miss Kitty squirmed away from her and she was overwhelmed with racking spasms of grief. "See, even the cat knows," she said through the tears and felt a warm hand on her back.

"Even the cat knows what, sweetie?" Tara’s voice was soft and even and the hand moved in comforting circles, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t trust her senses. They lied. Sometimes. They only understood the world in three dimensions, not the four or five or eleven of everything. And it could change in a moment.

"That I’m not right!" she exploded in a frantic, tear-choked spasm. "That’s I’m like an imposter. And, and the real Willow Rosenburg that belongs in this world is going to show up and kick me out and it’s so not going to be pretty because if I were me..."

"You’re not an imposter, Wil…" the blonde began emphatically, but she cut her off because Tara needed to understand this. She needed to be aware of the threat. The lie.

"I don’t belong…" she gestured wildly at the comforting contents of the room. "….in the…this here Tara! Don’t you see?" she finished desperately, turning to meet blue eyes, averting her gaze almost immediately, terrified that Tara’s features would blur and shift away from her. "I’m not the real Willow Rosenburg…the this Willow Rosenburg. This isn’t right and…and you don’t understand…I don’t deserve this!"

Tara stared at her for what felt like an hour, her forehead lined with confusion and concern while Willow tried in vain to control the sobs that still shook her in violent convulsions. In a moment, the blonde’s features shifted to a kind of resolved calm. She felt a cool hand cup her cheek and turn her gently. "Willow look at me." But she could only close her eyes and push against that hand that felt so real. But she couldn’t. Look. Because that was the dream and the end. "You are the real Willow Rosenburg. My Willow Rosenburg." Tara’s thumb stroked her cheek gently as both hands cupped her face and the sobs stopped suddenly. "You just don’t remember this world yet. You will."

She wanted to believe her. Desperately. But there was too much at stake. They needed to research. There was work to be done. "Tara we need to…we need the-the research and…because…I’m not going back there," she mumbled in a panic and pulled away. The books in the living room. There had to be something about Occum’s Heart in them. Or time. She was on her feet and halfway to the door when that familiar voice stopped her.

"You bet your ass you’re not going anywhere." Finally she did look, surprised by the ferocity in the blonde’s voice. Tara’s expression as she stood to face her was one of fierce determination that softened slightly when her eyes met Willow’s. "I didn’t go to the Nether Realms to get you just so you could d-disappear again."

Her mind had stopped working somewhere in the middle of the last sentence as her eyes drifted over the features she knew so well, but they were brand new. Her hair was shorter. A little longer than shoulder length and slightly bleached from the sun, so they didn’t spend all of their time hunting evil in the dark here. And was her face a little thinner? Leaner? Her clothes, she noticed for the first time were different as well. Tight jeans over a slimmer frame and a sleeveless top that revealed toned arms. The curves were still there, but this was a body shaped by physicality. Faith. Somehow she knew that the dark Slayer was responsible for this new Tara even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Then there were the things that were the same. The perfect arch of those pale eyebrows that brought her eyes to the strong slope of an aquiline nose. The curve and sigh of lips set in a determined line. She followed the strong plane of cheekbones back up to those dark blue eyes and saw something new. A scar. Small and fading beside Tara’s left eye. She reached to trace it automatically, but held back.

"How did…who hurt you?"

"Random vampire," the blonde replied with a shrug and smiled. "Who is currently fertilizing a very large area of the cemetery." And she was starting to know already. Images of the blonde returning from patrol with Faith and Dawn. A bloody bandage taped above her eye. An angry confrontation with Faith that Tara and Dawn had interrupted with assertions that the Dark Slayer had practically ripped the vampire’s head off for touching the blonde witch. And her own shaking fingers as she tried and failed to tend to the wound. So much blood and so close to those beautiful eyes. Faith had taken over finally. And she had let her. Willingly. She remembered overwhelming guilt. That she hadn’t been able to help her baby when she was injured.

"I couldn’t…" but it was more a question and she stopped unsure of her new memories.

"It’s okay baby, you were just afraid you would hurt me." Finally centering herself on the small lines in the corners of Tara’s eyes that meant happiness. But there was something else. Something processing in the deeper part of her mind far from the reach of that part of her that dissected and scrutinized. She finally let herself touch that fading pink line and the blonde smiled into her touch. "It doesn’t hurt anymore," she said softly and sighed as Willow traced the line of her jaw to her lips.

"You went to the Nether Realms to get me?" she asked quietly. Because that was the thing working around back there and she had to be very careful not to disturb it until it was ready. So she focused on the slight flush forming on the gorgeous slope of those cheeks and trailed her fingers back to trace the arch of an ear.

"Mmmm-hmm," she murmured in response and closed her eyes leaning into Willow’s touch. And there it was, working its way up now to the rational part of her brain. Tara, this Tara had gone to the Nether Realms to get her? But…

"But that wasn’t…I mean…this you?" It wasn’t possible. It was that other girl in the Nether Realms. The young Tara with the stutter and the shy, impossible confidence. She had felt the connection. "That was the other Tara…bubble world Tara." Blue eyes were studying her now and she realized that she had dropped her hand to her lap.

"That’s what I keep trying to tell you," the blonde said quietly and brought her hand up to cup the redhead’s cheek gently. "There is no other Tara." She swallowed and closed her eyes as warm lips bushed softly, briefly against her forehead. "And no other Willow," another light touch of lips against each eyelid. "There’s just you..." And the soft fluttery heat of those lips against her own, but only for a moment. "And me"

She felt time stop as the pieces fell into place. The circle in _that_ room, the candles and the heat. The two of them naked in the center of it all. Quantum mechanics and relativity and the nature of time. That everything was happening at once in every possible place and time. It was the act of noticing, of being and choosing that made it real. That was what made the now.

The images and memories from that other place, the Nether Realms suddenly overwhelmed her. The swirling energies and emptiness and the connection to Tara that had never really been broken. And the blonde there finally leading her back, helping her choose to let go..

Her eyes were open in an instant to find that blue regarding her with patient affection. Waiting for her to find herself again.

"Willow." She wasn’t sure it had been spoken aloud, that word that was both a question and a statement. And she wondered again about the way Tara said her name. A spell. That was what she had decided in some other space and time and it was, in a way. But it was more than that, it was the blonde describing her, claiming the everything of her with those two soft syllables. And she was again. Willow.

"Tara." A long slow smile that spelled out the last of her, letting her know that the memories were waiting for her they just needed…time. And the two of them to make and unmake them. She and Tara.

"Hi sweetie," The blonde finally broke the silence. A shy smile crept over Willow’s face as she looked down at her hands.

"Hi." And back up to Tara who was now smiling playfully as she took the redhead’s hands in her own. "So, now what? Is there anything, you know, I should know…I mean, before I…you know… know it?"

"I love you," Tara said softly, bringing a hand up to push red hair behind one ear making Willow shiver. "You should probably know that."

"Oh," she could feel the heat erupting in her face. "Yeah, I should…know that." But there was still that awkward shyness that she was beginning to understand. Because despite the past stretching out behind them, this was new. She didn’t know the rules of this world, the patterns and rituals of their life and love were a mystery making her feel like an outsider in what should have been her own life. "And so should you…know that I love you I mean," she stumbled awkwardly and frowned at her clumsiness.

But Tara was moving closer, her hand tracing her jawline, running in shivering tremors down her neck. "And you should know that I missed you." Closer still. "Terribly."

"God I missed you so much," she meant to shout it but it came out as a whisper as she fell into those arms again Felt the warmth as Tara pressed against her. How was it possible that she had gotten Tara back not once, but twice? "But there are things…" she choked on the words before righting herself. She could feel the strength of her girl as she held her up. "Things you should know about me." Tara held her tight, her hand moving in small circles on her back.

"Shhh." She soothed. "I know about the darkness. I saw it all…" a warm hand against her chin holding her head up. "In the N-Nether Realms."

She pulled back to study Tara’s face. To make sure there wasn’t rejection or disgust written there in hard lines, but that beautiful face held only love and concern. "Oh." Was all that she could find to say. She had seen everything? "And you don’t hate me?" Tara shook her head slowly still studying Willow’s face. "Maybe you didn’t see it all then because it’s definitely of the serious evil and you probably shouldn’t even be…"

"Sweetie," Tara’s fingers on her lips silenced her. "I saw it… all," a pained expression replaced the beautiful smiling curve of those lips. "I saw the ‘terrible things’," her hand stroked the redhead’s cheek softly. "I’m so sorry…" she began sadly and trailed off with a faraway stare. "And ‘t-terrible things’…they happened here too…" she looked down with a pained expression. "Not the same things, but…" Blue eyes locked with her own, holding her still. "I saw, Willow. I saw you choose…not to…again." It took her a moment to understand the reference. To understand that Tara had somehow seen her moment of weakness in the Heart’s center when she had come so close to taking the power offered. The power that would always be waiting for her.

"For you," she whispered softly finally and looked into blue eyes and the beginnings of a smile. "But still…me equals dangerous and I can’t…I won’t put you in danger again," she responded and tried to pull away, but strong arms held her gently in place.

"From the time I was four years old, m-my mother taught me that I had to understand my dark side to really control it," she tucked another strand of red hair behind an ear. "To recognize it and resist." Tara winced painfully and Willow found herself reaching out to comfort her. This was about the demon. She had never really understood before. About Tara’s self-awareness, her inner calm and strength. Where it came from. This was a woman who had been trained since childhood to look for signs within of the demon they had convinced her she was. "And I think," she began again hesitantly, breaking Willow’s train of thought. "I think you finally understand your dark side Willow…you just did it, you know, the hard way," a slight smile and raise of the eyebrows. "As usual."

"The really, really hard way," she murmured beginning another long silence as Tara’s gaze drifted over her features forcing Willow to look down. Scared that she would see traces of that dark-eyed demon in her eyes. And that was a place her mind did not want to go. Her lifelong defense mechanism kicked in and she began to ramble automatically. "I, um, anything else I should know like significant dates or you know because…"

"Well, you should probably know that," Tara leaned in to whisper in her ear and Willow swallowed hard as her entire body shivered into that light touch. "I think I’m going to kiss you … okay?" Echoes from her multiple memories rippled through her and she closed her eyes against the slight tremor that was beginning somewhere deep. An almost imperceptible nod and she felt the wet slide of the blonde’s cheek against hers through the tears she didn’t remember crying. Then the impossible heat of their lips that were now that close. Tara whispering her name into her with every breath. Breathing her back into herself as lips brushed against hers softly.

"This is the real?" she asked in a small voice and Tara nodded.

"The really real," she felt the smile against her mouth as soft lips brushed her own in another impossible first kiss, her knees growing weak under the weight of it all. But Tara caught her, holding her fast with one arm, her other draped over one shoulder, a warm hand on Willow’s neck as the blonde gently stroked that space behind her ear. And lips again against hers. "Willow," casting a spell, her hand moving to the bare skin of her chest. "I need," the ‘you’ was unspoken and understood as Tara finally claimed what had always been hers with a moan that traveled between them in the space of open mouths.

Then the heat was gone, Tara studying her with worried intensity. "Too fast? Because we can just go to bed if you…" but her chest was heaving under the brand new shirt Willow didn’t recognize. And she wanted. To know. She wanted to learn every inch of this woman over and over again, this body she knew by heart.

"No. I’m just…" she ducked her head again and swallowed hard. "I’m so afraid Tara." And felt those hands move over her again.

"I’ve got you," her voice so calm and sure now all of the doubt gone. Then the inexpressible calm of her hands on clothes and bare skin, undressing her. Unbuttoning her all the way, the gentle pressure of one hand always on heated skin as she uncovered everything. Stripping it all away in layers until Willow stood naked before her. Lips hot again against her own, "And I’m never letting go. Okay?"

She nodded and felt hands slip too her waist, felt the pressure of that deep blue gaze flutter over her skin. Tara reading her in that other way that wasn’t about energies and auras. "So beautiful." This was about skin and smell and the weight of what was real, the flush of it spreading through her like fire. She needed the weight of Tara on her now, the all of her against her again.

"Tara," _I need…_ and the sentence was completed for her in the heat of a long, lingering kiss as she was pulled and pushed in gentle strokes back to the bed. Their bed. The nubby texture of the bedspread against her back and the soft scrub of Tara’s cotton shirt and jeans. And the heat of Tara against her, both of them speaking each other’s names over and over in that silent language as she closed her eyes and sank into the soft heavy heat of it.

Until the heat lifted and her eyes flew open in a panic, but Tara was there above her pulling the t-shirt over her head. _Tara_ she wasn’t sure if she had spoken it, but the blonde’s eyes met hers immediately.

"It’s okay sweetie. I’m right here," she said gently and brought her hand to a bare thigh. "I’m not going anywhere." Willow fell into the slow smile in the curve of those lips as Tara stripped the last of her clothes away. And it was just the two of them again with nothing between as warm hands and blue eyes moved over her skin in shimmering waves.

She was unmade as Tara’s fingers moved over her, sculpting her with that soft push and pull into the Willow she was meant to be. The Willow she had always been. Taking charge of her again with the lightest touch, driving back the fear with sighs and that forever smile.

"Hold on to me, Willow" And she did, never taking her eyes off her love as she brought her hands up to clutch and pull everything she had lost and regained. To pull it all down to her so she could feel the weight of it against her. So she could make it real with every sense she had, every inch of herself.

Tara’s mouth and hands moved over her making her and claiming her with that other magic that lived outside of time. Moving lower and lower…

"Tara I need to see you," the words left her in a panic as the blonde made her way back up to her, holding her again with those eyes that really were the center of the universe now, holding her steady in that distanceless space between them.

"It’s okay sweetie," she murmured and Willow sighed in to her mouth as their hands traveled over each other in a ritual that she knew was all about that other kind of magic. The magic of heat and wet. The Big Magic. "I’ve got you," Tara murmured and she felt her take hold of the past and the present, weaving them together with a slow, insistent pressure. But magic…

Her eyes flew open to find the blue studying her, new moon dark as they looked into her, helping her find the things she already knew, but couldn’t tell herself yet:

The battle with Glory: her own dark magic, Faith and Buffy battling for Dawn as Tara emerged shining from Glory’s prison, her magic burning white hot in defense of Willow…

Another fall into dark magic, blurry and vague, but Tara…Tara was there to pull her out of that cold place…

A new first kiss immersed in cold and light and deep magic…

The two of them over and over entwined like this, glowing and golden and bending the universe with the weight and heat…

And finally Tara everywhere as it broke over her in a wave of everything suddenly right there. The past, present and future sliding together in time with their own desperate movements. And that low musical voice whispering her name over and over in that other, deeper language that let her know she was finally where she belonged…home.

**EPILOGUE**

Things that happened at 3:47 a.m. on the night of Buffy and Willow’s return:

Dawn lay awake staring at the ceiling in Rain’s bedroom. She could hear her friend’s soft snoring next to her and wondered why that didn’t squick her out. They had stayed up late talking again and that’s why she was sleeping in Rain’s bed and not in the guest room. Not like that was a new thing ‘cause she hadn’t actually slept in the guest room since the first night she slept over. And it always seemed to be Rain’s idea. Not that it was a bad idea, it was just that she wasn’t used to sleeping with someone else. But Rain was different all around. Dawn had never had a real friend before. Well, there was Janice, but she was kind of a friend by default. They’d known each other since grammar school, but she couldn’t trust Janice with the really big things. They still talked to each other in home room, but since she’d started hanging out with Rain, Janice had become friends with Courtney and her biatch minions, so she couldn’t trust her anymore. And she could trust Rain. With almost everything.

Buffy would kill her if she knew, but it wasn’t her fault really. Well, maybe it was kind of because she knew better or something like that. She and Rain had gone for a walk after dark to get away from the parentals even though she knew it was too dangerous. They had been attacked by a new vamp and Dawn had reacted without thinking using Faith’s trademark sweep and stake method. And Rain had been so cool about it all. Even when she told her about her sister being a Slayer and Willow and Tara being witches, Rain still thought Dawn was cooler than Buffy, which almost never happened.

Because Buffy was a SLAYER and Dawn was just, well, she hadn’t really gotten into that part yet. She wasn’t quite sure how to tell someone outside her family that she was really an ancient energy switch that opened portals into other dimensions. With blood, which was of the ick for most people. Because even though she knew that she was a Switch she also knew that she wasn’t really. She was really more of a girl…plus.

Rain shifted in her sleep, rolling to snuggle up to her and she was forced to stifle a squeak. And this was another thing that was becoming normal and kind of cool. She could actually sleep at Rain’s. Usually. When she wasn’t thinking too much like right now. It was sort of like the few times she had slept with Willow and Tara when she was too scared to sleep by herself. And not like that. Maybe it was like Willow and Tara. The way they always told each other everything and protected each other. And other stuff. Her face heated up at the thought and she became almost painfully aware of Rain’s breathing and the warmth of her against her side. No. This was just a friend thing. This was what normal, real friends did, wasn’t it? They slept in the same bed and cuddled when they were scared and it was no big. Because Rain was about as normal as it got. No vampires or prophecies and definitely no ex-vengeance demons or super-witches. But she really wanted to tell everyone about her. And Rain wanted to try some spells together so she was going to have to tell someone about it eventually. Just in case. Faith? But she couldn’t really talk to Faith anymore since Buffy had gotten in the way. So…Tara. Definitely Tara. She would understand. And she missed the blonde witch. She knew it was irrational, but she felt like they hadn’t really seen each other in months. Yep, definitely time for milkshakes and total disclosure because secrets were dangerous. She had learned that the hard way. The evil, scary, people-getting-hurt way.

Dawn rolled onto her side and tried to stop thinking about the demons and the Hellmouth and the hordes of things that wanted to eat her family or bleed her or…

Rain’s arm encircled her waist and she felt the girl curl against her back. "Stop thinking and go to sleep," her new best friend mumbled right against the back of her neck, which made her shiver all over, but definitely stopped those other scary thoughts.

But this was a little scary too, just in a totally different way. Maybe it was magic. Tara had told her about the witchy connection she and Willow had shared almost immediately and something about vending machines. And this definitely felt witchy and connected-y (if that was even a word) so maybe it was magic. Maybe Rain was a witch and she didn’t even know it.

She smiled and pushed back against Rain another wave of warmth driving all thoughts of demons and evil from her mind.

Definitely magic. And Tara would know exactly what kind.

****

"Are you satisfied yet B?" She could just make out Faith’s features in the deep black, but she knew that tone. "I mean, I think we’ve done just about everything…" Frustration. That was the tone. But that was okay. She knew how to turn that. Oh yeah, she so knew how to turn Faith frustration around.

" Just one more time please," she interrupted, deliberately dragging out the please to sound like a small child while reaching out to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her fellow Slayer’s ear. "I promise I’ll make it up to you." Faith softened immediately as she expected, but rolled her eyes for good measure. "Any way you want."

"Any way I want, huh?" She thought she saw the flash of perfect teeth set in a sultry smile, but there was a loud sigh. "Fine. One more sweep, but then we’re going home." Without even a kiss, Faith stalked away toward the back of Rain’s house for another sweep. Buffy fell in behind her, thankful that her sulky frown was hidden in the moonless dark of the yard. She was being irrational she knew that. There was probably nothing here. Her Slayer senses weren’t picking up anything unusual, but it was Dawn in there and what if there was something and they had just missed it the first four times? "I think you’re OCD, B," Faith growled as she made her way through a row of hedges.

"What does that mean? OCDB?" she demanded testily. She hated knowing less than Faith on any subject. And the way Faith said it …it had to be some term she used with that woman. "What? Is that what you and your _girlfriend_ call me when you’re having a session or whatever it is you do."

Another loud sigh as the dark silhouette turned to confront her. "She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my therapist! Damn, B! And it’s Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, which you definitely have because," Faith turned back to the hedges and began walking again growing more agitated with every second. With a guilty smile Buffy followed behind watching those powerful shoulders and neck work in the trademark sign of Pissed Off Faith. She knew it was cruel, but she so loved getting Faith all, well, Faith-y. It was so incredibly hot. "Hello! Checking Red and Blondie’s yard exactly five times every night has gotta be a sign of some kinda major disorder and -- ow! Fucking rosebushes!"

Buffy was about to begin a counter-argument about the importance of being thorough that sounded far too much like Giles, but stopped when she noticed that Faith was sucking her thumb, her face twisted in pain and anger. It was incredible really. The girl could walk home with major stab wounds and massive blood-loss, but any little minor scratch and she was a complete baby about it. She used like four boxes of band-aids a week. And they couldn’t be the regular old band-aids. They had to be special band-aids with _Hello Kitty_ or _Star Wars_ or _Monsters, Inc._ stuff all over them.

"Let me see it." She reached for the injured hand only to have it jerked away.

"No. Why?" Okay, definitely into full guilt-trip territory now. And it was her fault, this terrible injury, because she had made them sweep the yard one last time.

"Because!" she used all of her strength to wrench Faith’s hand away from her and into a thin stream of light from ‘the Rains’ back porch. "I have to make sure you didn’t hit a major artery," she said trying without much success to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Okay, you obviously don’t care about my pain," Faith began in full pout mode as she tried to tear her hand away again, but Buffy held on. She could see the slivery dark of a thorn, could feel its sharp roughness under her fingers. If she only had her old-school manicure this thorn would be out in a second, but her beautiful sculpted nails had been one of the many sacrifices she had made for this ‘relationship’ or whatever it was. They were still working that part out.

_Though the nails… totally worth it_, she thought with an evil grin. But she would never let Faith know that.

With a loud sigh, she began trying to dig the thorn out with her too-short, but still perfectly-shaped nails drawing a loud hiss from the dark Slayer.

"What? It’s bad isn’t it?" Faith sounded almost panicked and she had to stifle a laugh. Laughing at Faith, she had learned, led to hours of angry Faith, brood-y Faith and all-around badness.

"Yep. I think we’re gonna have to amputate." With an angry growl, Faith tried to tear her hand away again, but Buffy held on and finally produced the thorn. "See, all gone." But the dark Slayer was still pouting. "Still hurts?" She asked softly.

Faith just nodded angrily crossing her ‘good’ arm over her stomach. Buffy leaned down and kissed the injured thumb, but Faith was still staring off into the dark yard, a deep scowl evident on her face.

"Still?" An angry, incredibly cute nod and she remembered the Slayer’s own remedy for her injured thumb. With a mischievous grin she pulled the thumb into her mouth and was rewarded immediately with a sharp intake of breath. Faith’s head snapped around to face her, her mouth open in surprise. "Still?" she mumbled around the injured thumb as Faith swallowed hard and nodded once.

"B?" Her voice was shaky and small, so totally unlike the big bad Slayer everyone was used to. She knew that tone of voice, knew exactly what Faith was asking for -- consent. And it nearly broke her heart. This was another one of the tricky parts of their relationship — ‘power dynamics’ (that was _her_ word for it, that way-too-hot-to-be-a-therapist woman). Here she was with Faith’s thumb in her mouth, but the poor girl still had to ask to make sure she wanted her. It was part of her therapy and it made for some unbelievably awkward moments when they both wanted each other desperately, but were too afraid or proud or whatever to ask. But still, when they finally did get started things tended to get totally ‘off the hook’ (as Faith would say) pretty quickly. In the best way possible.

But she would have to find a way to let Faith know soon that she trusted her enough to start things. Enough to take what she wanted when she wanted it. Because she was pretty sure there wasn’t anything Faith wanted to do to her that she wasn’t going to like. She flashed back to an old memory from before. She and Faith and Angel with nasty-looking ‘instruments’ and lots of talk about torture. Then focused on the deep brown eyes before her, eyes that were studying her with hope and something else they hadn’t been able to say to each other yet. This was a different girl. She had proven that again and again even when Buffy had done everything in her power to keep her the same. And maybe, just maybe she was different too. For once, maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

She slowly pulled the thumb out of her mouth and was rewarded with a speechless, open-mouthed Slayer. With a satisfied smile she took the hand in her own. "I’m thinking four and a half times is way enough to spot the evil."

"You think?" so the sweetness was definitely on the fade because that was a smirk. Definitely a Faith smug smile trying to hide in the dark.

"You so played me!" She growled and Faith shook her head, her eyes all wide-eyed innocence, but her smile had turned to one of pure mischief as she slowly backed away from Buffy. "You," she reached for the dark Slayer, but she danced away from her. "You are a dead woman!"

With a shriek they were both off, tearing through yards and hedges at blinding speed and it felt so good. She hadn’t had a good slay in five days and the Slayer inside her needed this. Needed the woman in front of her who seemed to have a special gift for calming that demon or probably just wearing it out. Maybe it was the combination of the Chosen two canceling each other out. Or something.

But those thoughts were quickly giving way to other thoughts. To the what-am-I-gonna-do-when-I-catch-her-thoughts that generally involved lots of clothes-ripping and sex in strange places because they didn’t have to hold back with each other…after the consent part, which was already done. So, no holding back for fear of hurting anyone with superhuman speed and strength. Because she would. Catch her. They had established that over the past two years of sparring, training and slaying. Although they were equal in stamina, Faith was just slightly stronger, but Buffy was that half a second faster. So she would catch her and it would be her turn to do whatever she wanted with Faith for a while. She heard the mumbled curse as the Slayer stumbled on something just a few yards ahead of her. Yep, she would definitely catch Faith. It was only a matter of time.

 

****

Anya lay in bed watching Xander sleep, her fingers tracing the still-purple scar on his back. The deep gunshot wound that had brought them both so much pain and, more importantly, had drastically reduced the number of orgasms she was accustomed to. And that led her thoughts back to revenge. Evisceration? No. Been there, done that and it just wasn’t enough for the pain Warren Mears had inflicted on her. And Xander. Skinning him alive? Not original. Willow had done that once and she prided herself on originality. So she would just have to keep searching for a spell to extend his fifteen-year sentence to life without parole. With a big nasty cellmate named Vern. Or maybe she could get Hallie to bend the rules a little and send him to Oz. The TV show, not that hellhole with the terrifying singing munchkins. Everyone had assured her that a life as a paraplegic and time in a maximum security prison was enough punishment for the wannabe Big Bad, but Anya knew better. There was never enough punishment for those who hurt the people you love. So she had a project. A make-Warren-suffer-for-the-rest-of-his-pitiful-life project. And that brought a bright smile to her face. She loved projects and it was after all in her field of expertise.

But all of those thoughts about Warren and revenge brought her back to a terrifying possibility: What if this Xander wasn’t really alive? What if he was really lying dead beside her on the bed. She poked him, but there was no movement, so she poked him again. Hard.

"Ow." A loud groan and there was movement. "I’m alive An, so you can stop with the poking," Xander grumbled in his sleep, turning to throw a comforting arm across her stomach.

"Just making sure, honey." She smiled again and brushed back his thick dark hair wondering for the millionth time why she stayed with him. For as strong and sturdy as he looked he had far too many soft parts that always seemed to be in danger. He was vulnerable and since he held her heart that meant she was vulnerable too. Why couldn’t she have picked a Slayer? They were much harder to break. And with all that super-stamina there would have been much longer orgasms and probably a lot more of them. With a heavy sigh she looked back at the sleeping figure beside her and knew the answer. As ridiculous and impractical as it was, there was the indisputable fact that she was hopelessly in love with this goofy, flawed, fragile human.

She would have to remember to thank Willow later and maybe even Buffy if she could stomach it. For Xander and Tara and this new world. Even if it was all a crazy accident. Because for once in her twelve hundred-year existence, she had to admit she couldn’t have done it better herself.

****

"Tara why are you dressed in a fish suit?" Willow mumbled sleepily into a bare shoulder and Tara smiled at the serious expression on the redhead’s face. Whatever was going on in the dream it definitely had her girl very concerned.

"It’s a costume party sweetie," She replied gently and kissed the lines on Willow’s forehead away. That seemed to satisfy her. "Do we get to keep the fins?" But she wasn’t really looking for an answer, already deep asleep again as she snuggled against her. She felt the press of bare skin, the slide of silky red hair on her chest and took a deep breath to push back her desire. Willow needed to sleep. She looked down their entwined bodies, her eyes following the sinuous curve and angles of one perfect leg thrown over her and sighed.

_Willow needs to sleep_ she reminded herself and smiled at her insatiable need for this beautiful bright woman now sprawled across her.

But she was going to make sure her slumber wasn’t interrupted by anything — not demons or vampires, nightmares or frog dreams, not even her own want — nothing was going to come between her girl and the sleep she so badly needed.

Pulling Willow closer still she held onto her slippery girl with all of her strength. Reassuring herself that they were safe. Buffy and Faith had been by earlier to sweep the yard earlier so there were no demons to worry about. The Slayers’ combined energy signature was like a bright spike in the murmuring field of her other senses. And their incessant, muffled bickering left no doubt about their identity as they made their routine ‘secret’ sweep. Rain’s house was next no doubt.

The thought of the Slayers checking up on _their_ little sister made her smile. Things felt so wonderfully right…even if they were still a little bumpy. Yes, there were still demon devices and the threat of Vra’al and there was all of that past to deal with. So much pain and darkness behind those beautiful green eyes and she had to find a way to take some of it from her love.

She looked down at the smiling redhead whose fingers were now moving over her chest in lazy circles.

_My sneaky, sneaky girl._

"Willow you need to sleep," but that brought only a pouting turn to that unbelievably sexy mouth.

"Mmmm…don’t wanna," as Willow’s lips moved over her breast in hot, wet swirls she saw the flash of green and violet, felt the rush of their arousal as it swept through the room, crashing back into them in a breaking wave. And felt the rightness of this as a real thing. A glowing, fiery space they were bringing into the world with every movement and moment. Drawing it around them in lines of breath and touch. As Willow moved lower, moaning as she opened up that burning want that seemed to never end, she understood again. She didn’t have Willow’s memories of that other world, those other pasts to pull from, but she had the aching heat of now and the reason of them. This was her girl and her place. Her home. There was nothing and nowhere else for her but Willow. Ever.

 End


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